Turnabout Antiquity
by Tarma Hartley
Summary: People have been disappearing at Cromwell University for some time and Phoenix & Miles are called in by the Dean to investigate. Seemingly routine, they aren't prepared for the horrible secrets they will discover... PxE, M, Graphic horror and violence
1. Prologue: Fiery Bronze

_A/N: My first ever PxE historically based fic and I am thrilled to be able to write one! :) History is my passion-and has been for over two decades-so I'm happy that I can combine the two things I love most at last in a fic: History and PxE! :)  
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**This is a horror story and, as such, there will be scenes of graphic horror, violence and descriptions of death in death devices of Antiquity that may disturb some readers. Reading discretion is advised.**_  
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Professors seem to be disappearing at an alarming rate at Cromwell University and turning up dead in some _very_ gruesome ways that were common methods of execution in Antiquity. Phoenix wonders if these murders at the University have any connection to reports of numerous disappearances of street people occurring with alarming frequency over the past three months and, when the mutilated remains of a homeless man who disappeared three weeks earlier are found, he's convinced that the answers lie in the University.  
Now Phoenix, with help from Miles and Gumshoe, is in a race against time to prevent another murder and bring the killer or killers to justice. However, thwarted ambition is a dangerously lethal mix when added to a already unstable mind and it explodes in violence as death pays a visit to its next potential victim...  
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History meets Phoenix Wright! What a wonderful combination! :^D All of the methods of execution that follow in this piece _are_ real and were used, at one point or another, in Antiquity (The Ancient World).

First up is the Brazen Bull_, _a particularly nasty, not to mention excruciating-but, without a doubt, a most original and unusual-form of execution.

(The following is taken from the spiritus-temporis website. The website's address appears in my profile since it won't upload here for some reason. My comments are in brackets.)  
Created by a brass-caster of Ancient Greece, Perillos of Athens, for Phalaris, Tyrant of Agrigentum (Sicily) in about 560 BC, it featured a hollow bull made of bronze that could open either from the side or on top. (I've seen it both ways and I've chosen to go with the opening in the top since, in the sources I've read on the Brazen Bull, they don't state exactly _how_ they were able to close it from the side to make sure the victim/victims _stayed_ inside. Therefore, the opening in the top makes much more sense to me and I will use it accordingly.)  
The victim/victims were placed inside, a fire set underneath the belly of the Bull which heated the bronze until it was hot and roasted them alive. To make things even more horrific, there were a series of tubes and stops in the head of the Bull that converted the victim's screams into what sounded like the bellowing of an enraged bull. It served the dual purposes of being not only entertainment for the Tyrant at a very public feast but also a warning to those who might have the thought of rebelling against him.  
Ironically enough, the first victim of the Brazen Bull was Perillos himself although Phalaris had him taken out before he perished. Some time later, Phalaris had Perillos tossed off a cliff. (Talk about ingratitude!)  
( Another source of information on the Brazen Bull comes from the TV series "Surviving History," episode: Brazen Bull and Discovery Channel's "Machines of Malice," episode: Ancient Machines.)

The first I had heard of this horrible method of execution was from the bloody reign of the Roman Emperor Elagabalus (who reigned from 218-222 AD) some years ago and it prompted my search to find out, some years later, who had created it and why. The Judeo-Christian value of the "Sanctity of Human Life" that we are familiar with today was unknown in Antiquity (it was a terrifying world where death lurked around nearly every corner and life was, to quote Thomas Hobbes, "short, nasty and brutish;" admittedly, if you were of the noble class it wasn't _as_ bad as those below you) so do keep that in mind while reading. The Ancient World was far different in terms of societal norms and values than our own and life then definitely _was_ held to be very cheap, indeed. (Which is the view held by my killers for their victims.)

I've left out the incense that was placed in the Bull to sweeten the awful stench of burning flesh-mentioned in the spiritus-temporis information on the Brazen Bull-since I am not sure exactly _how_ or _where _it was put in the Bull or _what_ kind of incense was used.  
Cromwell University is my own creation as no university of that name exists anywhere in Los Angeles (although, according to Google, there _is_ a Cromwell College in Queensland, Australia. Google is indeed a wonderful thing!) and the plot of the story, the Professors, the homeless people who have disappeared, the University President, the University Vice-President and the Dean are my own characters and belong to me. Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright and Detective Gumshoe, of course, belong to CAPCOM.

Thank you to Midnight-hunter, my beta, for her advice and suggestions! You ROCK! :)

Special thanks to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for his love, unflagging support, nagging (when necessary) and keeping me grounded during the writing process so I don't end up tearing my hair out! I appreciate it more than I can ever say! Love you!

I hope that you will enjoy the story! Comments, suggestions and critiques, as always, are welcomed and appreciated! :)

Rated NC-17, M, Graphic horror and violence, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth

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_September 16th__  
Cromwell University Campus, Nathaniel Park  
Los Angeles, California  
5:45 P.M._

_The day had been dark and forbidding from morning to late afternoon with thick, black clouds hanging low in the sky. Now, in the early evening, it had begun to rain, a light mist settling over the park like a twisting, writhing shroud._

_The old man shuffled slowly down the path, ignoring the hostile stares and mumbled epithets that rang in his ears as he passed by. He'd been hearing the same thing, though from different mouths, for the past twenty-five years or so, he'd lost count of the years some time ago, and had long since ceased to care what others thought._

_At the end of the walkway, he stopped and wearily pulled a faded and creased photograph from his pocket, his weathered eyes filling with tears. The woman staring out at him from across the years was in the springtime of her life, her beautiful face smiling, happy and unfettered by cares or the weight of the world._

_He slowly lifted his head to stare up into the drizzly grey sky, memories flooding over him like a tide. He preferred to remember her this way instead of the closeted, unhappy, sickly woman she later became. He couldn't remember a time after either their marriage or the birth of their two daughters that she had anything kind to say to him or about him. He wondered if what the neighbors had told him was true all those years ago but now, after all this time had passed, it no longer mattered._

_She'd hated and despised him and he had no idea what it was that he had done to her for her to change so dramatically. He did everything he could think of to try and make her happy but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to please her; he eventually gave up and stopped trying. In retrospect, this had been about the time when he had begun to suspect that she was unfaithful to him-not only had she abandoned their marriage bed but she also refused to let him touch her-although he could never prove it which made an already bad situation much worse._

_In the end, he had given up, choosing the bottle with which to drown his sorrows and pain, which effectively ended his marriage for good. The love they had once shared was gone, buried deep in animosity, anger, confusion and pain, in recriminations and ugly taunts, hurtful and spiteful words that came between them repeatedly and much more often. She had left him one November morning and he didn't know she had left until he came back home form the bar where he and his friends had gone after they got off work._

_He knew something was wrong the moment he staggered through the doorway to the empty and_ _silent house. It was so quiet and still, with a deafening silence that unnerved him, bereft of life or any of the thousand other sounds that one associates with a busy household: the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, the happy barking of the family dog and the squeals of laughter and joy from the children as they romped throughout the house, engaging the dog in a mad chase around the living room which had never failed to amuse him. His wife never seemed to be too happy about it but she never said a word, for the most part; she knew how much the girls enjoyed it and, at their age, they needed a way to burn off their excess energy so Julia kept her feelings to herself._

_His lip quivered as he remembered a time when he had come home-before all their troubles began-to the usual dog chasing antics from Caroline and Julian, giving them a big smile when he walked through the door which the girls took as a sign of his approval. He smiled at them and, catching a steely glare from his wife out of the corner of his eye, he grinned back at her-he always enjoyed teasing her since she used to get so angry with him; he knew that she was trying hard not to laugh by the mischievous glimmer in her eyes that outshone the stormy countenance of her face-and told the girls to take the dog outside for a run in the backyard since_ "you don't want to annoy your mother..." _the latter said with exaggerated, rolling eyes. He still remembered the sound of their laughter all these years later._

_He'd loved them all with all of his heart and that was why it had hurt so much when Julia-his wife-began to distance herself from him; in the process, she also was the catalyst who turned Caroline's heart against him since she, of the two, was the one who was the closest to her mother. When Julia began to widen the gulf between them with emotional and physical distance, Caroline inevitably followed suit._

_Tears were pouring down the old man's face now in a steady stream, his heart aching as it had all those years ago, wondering for what seemed to be the millionth time over the course of his lifetime if there was anything more he could have done that he hadn't already tried to bridge the growing chasm between Julia and himself. No matter what he did or what he tried to do to please her, it was never enough; after he turned to the bottle for solace, she tore off the mask she'd been hiding behind and openly despised him. What she had once said in private, she now said openly to anyone who would listen: their neighbors, their pastor, their friends and his oldest daughter, Caroline._

_Caroline took her mother's part but Julian sided with her father which lead to the irrevocable breach between the two that never healed, not even after Julia had left him and took the two girls with her. _

_Poor, sweet Julian... how he missed her sunny smile and loving heart! He often wondered why Julia had taken Julian with her when she left; Caroline he could understand but why Julian? Was it a ploy to punish him or Julian herself? He never knew.  
_

_He ached with the memory of his poor, unhappy child who had suffered so much in choosing his side; her mother and older sister had never forgiven her for what they termed her "betrayal" and made her pay dearly for it, year after year with their contemptuous silence, biting words and hate until she could stand it no longer and ran away, coming back to him for refuge._

_Guilt slammed him right in the gut as he thought of it now. What kind of haven could he have offered her? He was a full-blown alcoholic who was drinking heavily, had lost his job three days before she had arrived and had no other prospects lined up or even the desire to look for work. All he cared about was where he was going to get his next drink from since the liquor cabinet was almost empty._

_Shame flowed through him as he remembered the tortured last months of Julian's life; he could never shake the feeling that he, and he alone, was responsible for her death. She'd tried-God, how she had tried!-to help him pick up the pieces of his shattered life after her mother and his oldest daughter had left but he wasn't interested in going on with his life; he was trying to end it._

_He had nothing to live for and his wife's and daughter's ugly taunts rang in his ears on a daily basis which made him sink ever deeper into an alcoholic stupor; there, at least, he could forget his problems and be happy at least for a little while until the demons came back stronger than ever._

_He barely remembered the night that Julian died. Through an alcoholic haze, he saw his daughter, then nineteen, rush in front of a knife to save him from the wicked blade aimed at his chest. He heard a grunt, the sound of scurrying feet running away down the street and the soft bump as Julian slowly fell to her knees, her eyes half-shut, her mouth creased in a sweet, sad smile, a tiny trickle of blood bubbling from between her tightly compressed lips._

_He didn't remember much after that and couldn't even remember how he had managed to bury her decently or where he found the funds to do so. Perhaps someone had helped him... it was all just a blur in his memory. Maybe that was what kept the guilt from eating him alive in the days after her death. He couldn't remember now where she was even buried._

_He took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried to shake the memories now coming unbidden into his mind but he had no way to stop them from coming; perhaps this was his punishment after all these years, to suffer from the haunting of the ghosts of his past and the guilt that ate at him like acid. He accepted this as a matter of course; he did deserve nothing but pain after all he had done._

_If only, if only, if only... It ran through his tortured mind endlessly, like a reel. If only I'd been more of a man... if only I'd been able to break through the barrier that Julia erected around herself... if only I'd been there for Julian, she might still be alive and well today... if only I'd hadn't turned to drink for comfort..._

_If only...if only...if only. The epitaph of a wasted life._

_He stared at the faded photograph for some time, lost in his bitter memories and unaware that the light misting of rain now became a steady shower; had he noticed, he wouldn't have cared very much at any rate. Life held no happiness for him anymore and hadn't for years, really; truth be known, he was just waiting for the moment it all would end. Maybe then he would finally be at peace._

_Julian... My poor, poor child..._

_XXXXX_

_He jumped when he felt the soft touch on his arm, whirling around in shock, a hoarse cry being ripped from his throat and his heart pounding in his chest. He'd been so lost in his memories that he hadn't realized that anyone else was there._

"I'm terribly sorry to have frightened you,"_ a soft, musical voice said softly in front of him and he looked up in surprise to stare into a woman's concerned face. _"I certainly didn't mean to. Are you all right?"

_She was very beautiful: about 5'9 inches tall, a heart-shaped face, cupid mouth, almond-shaped green eyes, prominent cheekbones, sweetly curved in all the right places, filling out the crimson colored dress that went down to her ankles perfectly, covered by a dark grey cloak, wearing smart black pumps on her feet with a gentle look about her that made it clear that she was a lady of some standing._

_He knew it was rude but he couldn't help himself; he stared at her, his mouth working with no sound coming out of it, enthralled at the beautiful apparition he saw standing before him that was looking at him with an amused smile, mischief twinkling in her bright green eyes._

She doesn't seem offended,_ he thought to himself with relief, slowly starting to relax after his fright. _All to the good. She's so pretty...

_As she came closer to him, he opened his mouth and a strangled croak emerged._

Julia...!

_The woman stopped, cocking her head in an inquisitive manner as she looked at him, her eyes narrowed in confusion, her hands placed lightly on her hips. For one awful moment, he thought that this really might_ be _Julia and she had come back to haunt him but, as she came closer to him and he could see her face much more clearly, he saw that it was definitely not his ex-wife. It was both a relief though, at the same time, it broke his heart all over again._

_The woman noticed the changing expressions on his face with a gentle and benign gaze, her eyes glittering softly. She put out a hand to him and smiled when he shakily took it._

"Whatever it is that is weighing so heavily on your heart, would you not tell me?" _She smiled that glowing smile. _"Perhaps it might help to talk about it."

_He shook his head._

"I do not wish to ever remember the past again," _he said stiffly, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. _"Whatever it is I'm suffering now is my own folly and no one else's. The past is past; it's dead and buried and I wish to leave it that way." _He looked at her, his lips trembling, his eyes filling with tears that spilled down his cheeks, scrubbing them away impatiently, with a touch of embarrassment, with his free hand. _"I don't mean to sound rude since you're being so kind to me but..." He took a deep breath. "The memories... it just..._ hurts..._ too much..."

_She said nothing in reply but merely squeezed his hand tightly, that beatific smile making her seem like an angel. He felt himself relaxing for the very first time in many years with another human being, opening up to her in a way that he had been unable to do twenty-five years earlier with someone who, finally, saw that he _was_ a fellow human being and _not_ just another homeless drunkard. For the next hour, he poured out his heart to her and, though she never commented but merely squeezed his hand, she did smile at him, encouraging him to tell her everything that was on his mind._

_As he talked, the old man noticed his spirits beginning to rise and felt lighter than he had in years, that terrible guilt slowly melting away along with some of the sadness he'd been carrying deep within him as well. The lady was right: he_ shouldn't_ take responsibility for more than was his due. He hadn't been fully responsible for Julian's death-he hadn't been the one to plunge the knife into her chest, as the lady pointed out during their conversation-and felt the bittersweet sting of pride of Julian's selfless act of sacrificing herself so that her beloved father would be able to live although, even now, he wished that she hadn't._

_He had nothing to live for; even if this beautiful angel had freed him from his soul-crushing guilt of causing his daughter's death, he knew that he was still responsible, to a great degree, for the failure of his marriage and his descent into alcoholism that put the final nail in the coffin of his life. He'd tried to convince himself all those years ago that he wasn't to blame but the truth reared its ugly head, staring at him with an unwavering gaze that forced him to face the facts of why his life had gone so badly wrong._

_After some moments of silence, the lady finally spoke._

"I have some food in my car," _she said, her gaze locking onto his and never wavering, her mouth curving into a smile. _"I had come here to picnic with a friend and, now that I think of it, we packed far too much for two people." _She smiled that dazzling smile once again and the old man nearly melted in its intensity. _"If you'd like to come with me, we can go get it." _She looked him squarely in the face and, to his great surprise, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. _"You look like you haven't had a decent meal for quite some time."

_The old man was about to answer in the affirmative but there was something that had put him on his guard; there was something about this woman that just didn't feel right. He had no idea if this was only his usual distrust of people in general, having been shunned, spit upon, occasionally beaten and berated for over four decades-which would, he was sure, make anyone nervous and suspicious of a "kindness"-or if there really was something amiss._

_She seemed too good to be true and the fact that she had come with someone else-that she hadn't_ _mentioned until now-didn't sit well with him and made him feel very uneasy. And that smile... it now looked... predatory, for some reason... Was it only his imagination or did her eyes seem to... _glitter_... with an intensity he found unsettling?_

_She seemed to notice his hesitation and that dazzling grin returned, her eyes creased in evident amusement, her grip on his hand loosening just the slightest bit. Relief washed over him as he looked into her eyes once again, losing himself in that brilliantly enticing gaze; whatever predatory look he had thought he had seen in her eyes was gone and he let himself relax._

There's nothing wrong here at all_, he concluded in his mind, following when the woman pulled him lightly forward, inviting him to follow her to the interior of Nathaniel Park._ There's nothing wrong at all... everything is all right; there's nothing to fear here... She's what she seems to be: a beautiful, kind woman, sent from heaven to help me... and the only one who, in twenty-five years, has shown me any kindness at all.

_As they walked, the old man didn't notice that the gracious smile on his companion's face had turned into a wolfish grin, her grip tightening on him as they made their way deep into the Park. The old man was surprised to see a large statue of a bull resting on a creamy white marble pedestal deep in the thickest part of the forest that surrounded the campus._

_He bit his lip as he quickened his pace to keep up with his companion._

I don't remember seeing that here before, _he thought with some amount of surprise, his eyes widening a little as he followed the woman deeper into the twisting, tangled maze of trees and brush. _But this is truly a most amazing sculpture!

_The closer they came to the bull, the more he appreciated the wonderful work of art it was. Made of shining bronze, it stood proudly against the thick copse of trees and seemed to fill the area where it stood, its nose pointed toward the East. It was a fabulous work of art, very lifelike and exceptionally intricate, especially on the finer details such as the eyes, ears and mouth; he could easily imagine the bull stamping and bellowing, it was _that_ detailed._

"Impressive, isn't it?" _the woman whispered into his ear and he jumped slightly since he hadn't realized she was so close to him and her proximity startled him. _"It almost looks alive, doesn't it?"

"Yes," _he whispered back in a choked voice, his heart beginning to beat faster, his hands trembling a little. _"It... it... does... look very much... _alive_." _He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling so tense but there was something about this woman that struck him as being... hidden although, what that was, he couldn't say._

_He didn't know why he was feeling so uneasy and that was troubling him greatly. His instincts had, of necessity, become quite honed in the intervening years and he could usually tell when something was amiss but this was different... or so he tried to convince himself. The woman smiled once more and turned to walk deeper into the trees, beckoning him to follow her.  
_

_There was no reason that he could see why his instincts should be screaming at him like this; the woman wasn't a threat to him! She had been the only person in a very long time to show him kindness of _any_ sort and he wasn't about to let his overwrought imagination get the better of him!_

_With that firmly in mind, he pivoted on his heel and followed the woman as she walked deeper into the forest..._

XXXXX

_Locals that lived in the vicinity would later say that they were surprised to hear a bull bellowing in the forest at Nathaniel Park since, as far as anyone knew, there weren't any ranches with livestock within a fifteen mile radius. It was a mystery, to be sure, but not to the woman and her companion who stood beside the bull statue and watched dispassionately as the fire licked the underbelly of the life-sized statue, giggling softly as the bellowing sounds grew louder and more desperate. It was delicious music to their ears._

"It is beautiful, is it not my darling?" _the woman's companion said softly beside her as the bellowing becoming louder with each passing moment, his arm sliding around her shoulder. _"Beautiful and deadly... isn't it sweet?"

_The woman nodded as she leaned into him, her lips curving into a wolfish smile as she playfully nuzzled his neck, giving him a playful nip_. "Very much so, I agree."

_It had been so ridiculously simple to place the test subject into the Bull once he had eaten the drugged food she had given him. She recalled that he had been so pathetically grateful for her "kindness" that he had failed to notice she was literally trembling with suppressed excitement at the thought of what was to come. If he had had any second thoughts at all, perhaps it was to wonder why he should have been shown such kindness when he had been belittled and insulted a good portion of his life.  
_

What fools men are, _she thought to herself_,_ a wide smile spreading over her face with little animal moans escaping her lips once the Bull had begun to "bellow."_ Give them a little attention or affection and they'll do anything you want them to do. _She giggled softly as the intensity and noise level of the bellowing continued to rise._ Just like a little puppy dog.

_Of course, they had had to wait until he was semiconscious before they lit the fire; she had pouted that this would ruin the fun considerably although both she, and her partner, were amazed when the wait had served to raise the excitement level_ _to a much higher place than either of them had reason to suspect. It was a wonderful surprise._

_The test subject had been the perfect sacrifice; she was pleased with her choice. When the Bull first began to "bellow" as the fire slowly warmed the statue from beneath, she had moaned like an animal in heat, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, her eyes glittering with mad intensity. The pleasure the woman felt was so intense that she nearly lost consciousness but she managed to get herself under some semblance of control and went on to enjoy the spectacle._

_The burning flesh... the charred bones... the melodious bellowing... How wonderful it was...  
_

_After some moments of silence between them, she looked at the Bull once more and then her eyes flickered over to her companion, her tongue slowly sliding over her lips until they gleamed wetly, her rich, throaty chuckle tinged with menace. _"Beautiful and deadly... just like me."

_The man laughed as he held her close to him, nuzzling her neck, his gaze lustful and his eyes hungry. He stepped away from her, trembling with barely concealed excitement as his hands cupped her face._

"Just like you, darling. Just... like... you, my precious little Princess..."

"Mmmmm..." _was all she said in reply as their mouths met, tongues meshing and bodies melting into one. The bellowing went on for some minutes before it died away into an eerie silence although the couple was not aware of it as they fell to the ground, pulling off clothing as they did so, hungry hands exploring each other's body with glee as the fire burned brightly far into the night accompanied by the sickeningly-sweet odour of burning flesh..._


	2. Chapter 1: Mysteries

_A/N: Michael Carson, the victims, the professors, the plot and the killers belong to me; Phoenix and Miles, of course, belong to CAPCOM._  
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_Phoenix and Miles are called in by the dean of Cromwell University, a personal friend of the Edgeworth family. The burnt remains of someone have been found in Nathaniel Park; it is unknown who they belong to at this point. Phoenix and Miles begin their investigation, little suspecting what awaits them_ _when they start digging into the university's past..._ _and begin to uncover secrets that certain people _don't _want them to find...  
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Chapter 1! Now the story begins with the discovery-as we know from the Prologue-of the remains of the poor soul who was put into the Brazen Bull. Things are going to get worse for our heroes the deeper they dig into the university's past and uncover secrets that two certain people will kill to keep buried.

Sorry for the length and length of time it took me to get it done and posted! I admit that I might have gone a _little _overboard with the scene in the dean's office, but I felt that it needed to be explored fully. Miles has been a friend of the dean-and his family-for many years. Although the _prosecutor_ in him wouldn't let something _this_ serious slide, the _friend_ in him wants to believe in his innocence, that he _didn't_ do something like this deliberately and gives him the chance to fully explain himself. It's almost like a test, if you will, to prove to Miles that the faith he _has_ in dean Carson _isn't_ misplaced, that he _is_ the man he thought he _always_ was. Which he does, after he finally manages to overcome his nervousness enough to talk. Now that it is out of the way, things can proceed normally. :)  
I took artistic license with the dean in making him a friend of the Edgeworth family; why else would he have called Phoenix and Miles in specifically and speak to them familiarly? This scenario made the most logical sense to me and I think it works nicely. I didn't include a description of the dean's office since I don't really know what one looks like but it seems to work without one. I also notice that, in the Prologue, I didn't include the eye colour of the male partner of the killer (he has black eyes) but I did in this chapter. Pretty sick people, no?

(_The "Nuremberg Defence" _that Phoenix refers to is _"the legal defense that essentially states that the defendant was "__**only following orders**__" and is therefore not responsible for his crimes." -Taken from the article on the Nuremberg Defence at Wikipedia. Full address to follow in my profile.) _  
Phoenix doesn't have _any_ trouble forgiving the dean for his lapse in judgment-and eventually, Miles forgives him, too-for two reasons: 1. He _takes full responsibility for his actions_ and, 2. He really _had_ no choice in the matter-there wasn't an "Option 3" available, unfortunately-and did what he did basically under duress. No matter _which _option he chose, _someone_ was going to be unhappy-the higher ups certainly wouldn't have been happy with the police nosing around-so you really can't blame him too much; it's a heck of a place to be! The good thing is is that he _did_ take responsibility for what he did which is why they forgave him. While it might not make much sense legally in the real world, I think it makes perfect sense in the PW universe where people routinely do some pretty wild things that you would never get away with in real life! :)

Anyway, sorry for prattling on and I hope you enjoy the second chapter! :)

Thanks to all of my readers for reading, reviewing, favouriting and alerting! I'm happy that you enjoy reading my work and I hope that you will continue to do so in the future! :)

As always, thanks to my beta, Midnight-hunter, for her help! Much appreciated and thanks for the discussion on the point I was stuck on! :^)

Special thanks to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for his help, nagging (when necessary), and helping me keep grounded during the writing process so I don't end up tearing my hair out! Love ya, babe! :)

Comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated!

Rated NC-17, M, Graphic violence and horror, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth  
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_October 9th  
8 A.M.  
Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth Residence_

The phone rang at eight o'clock that morning, waking me out of a sound sleep and interrupting some _very _pleasant dreams. I groaned loudly as one eye cracked blearily open, fluttering sleepily, my hands twitching as they clutched the covers. After a few more moments, I slowly pushed the thick comforter away, trying not to disturb Miles who slept peacefully next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist with his face nestled comfortably against my back, his breath gently tickling my bare skin. How he could sleep through this racket was beyond me.

We'd had a late night the previous evening and I was hoping that we could have caught some extra sleep but, as I gritted my teeth with annoyance and cast a hooded glare at the telephone, it didn't seem like the caller was going to hang up anytime soon and I might as well answer it.

_This had better be good!_ I thought angrily, my hand slowly reaching out and scrabbling on the night table beside my side of the bed, a thousand evil thoughts racing through my half-awake mind of what I wanted to do to the caller for waking me out of a sound sleep. _And it had better_ not _be Maya calling and wanting to go out for burgers again! It's Saturday, for heaven's sake! At least let us have some time to ourselves for once!_

The constant cacophonous ringing of the phone was _really_ starting to get on my nerves so, with an angry grunt, my fingers wrapping tightly around the receiver so hard that my knuckles turned white, I picked up the receiver. As I began to lift it gingerly from its cradle, I felt Miles stir beside me.

_Oh, lovely... _I suppressed an inward groan as I picked up the phone, the loud, irritating racket stopping instantly, much to my relief. _The phone woke Miles up; he's certainly_ not _going to be happy... not that I can really blame him._

And he wasn't. I noticed the obvious when I put the receiver to my ear and happened to glance down at my now awake and _very_ cranky lover, his grey eyes narrowed into evil, little slits, his lips pressed tightly together in an angry grimace.

_Terrific._

"Hello?" I spoke groggily, shaking my head violently, trying to wake myself up. All I ultimately accomplished by doing this was to feel dizzy and lightheaded, not to mention I could feel the stirrings of a headache in the back of my head. I grimaced; waking up at this point seemed like a remote possibility.

_It's going to be another lovely day, I can tell._

"Is this the Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth residence?" I frowned; the voice on the other end was strained and very unhappy but it wasn't anyone I recognized which sent my curiosity level spiking through the roof. _Who _was this and _what _did they want?

My eyebrow raised slightly and Miles raised himself groggily up on one elbow to look at me, an inquiring look on his face.

"Yes... yes, it is," I replied slowly, my fogged brain racing around in circles, trying to figure out who this was, _what_ he-the caller was definitely male, I could tell by his low, bass voice-wanted and _why_ he had used such a curious greeting. Anyone who knew us or had business dealings with us knew that we were a pair; while this had been a source of discomfort for some, most didn't care. "Who is this?"

"Oh, thank goodness I've caught you!" The voice sounded relieved which confused me even more. "I was hoping I would find one of you two at home!"

My eyebrow rose even higher, Miles' joining mine as he caught the odd expression spreading over my face.

"It's"-I glanced over at the clock on Miles' side of the bed-"8:03 on a Saturday morning; where else _would_ we be?!" I let the testiness and annoyance that I felt come through loud and clear in my voice for I _was_ annoyed at the intrusion and made it very plain."You woke us both out of a sound sleep!"

"I... I am truly sorry," the voice apologized on the other end, contrition plain in his tone which did go a long way to mollify me somewhat, lessening, at least slightly, the annoyance and irritation I felt. I _still_ wasn't fully awake at this point and I was having a bit of trouble following the conversation. "I _do_ apologize for waking you but I really need your help and you two are the only ones I could think of whom I could entrust such a delicate situation to with complete discretion."

_A... delicate situation? _My eyebrow rose again_. The only ones I could think of to... entrust?_ _Complete... discretion? What in the world is he talking about?! This is a _very _curious choice of words to use with a stranger!_

"What...?" I replied stupidly, my brain having trouble following the conversation since I still wasn't fully awake yet. Miles was and it was a talent I wish I had at this moment since I sounded, for all intents and purposes, like a blithering idiot, trying to talk while yawning loudly in between. Miles motioned to me to hand him the phone which I did, my brow furrowed.

"This is Miles Edgeworth," he said in a crisp, efficient tone as soon as he put the receiver to his ear, leaning against me so I could hear the conversation as well. "To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Miles..?" the voice happily intoned, relief resonating in his tone. "Oh, thank goodness I've reached the right place!"

It was Miles' turn for his eyebrow to raise. "Do I know you?" he asked politely with a slight edge to his voice. "Your voice sounds very... _familiar ... _although I cannot, at this moment, place your name."

The man on the other end chuckled. "You should remember me, Miles; you spent a lot of time in my office when you were growing up. This is Michael Carson, the dean from Cromwell University. I'm an old friend of your father's_."_

Miles' face brightened as I looked at him, a stunned expression on my face as my lips twisted into a sour, petulant grimace, my arms crossing over my chest. _Dean Carson is on the phone? Why didn't he just say so? _

I snorted with disgust and yelped as Miles' elbow dug into my side, giving him a dirty look in the process which he cheerfully ignored. _Geez, some people..._

"As you were saying, Michael," Miles continued smoothly, as if there had been no interruption, "what has come up that you need our help for?" He paused a moment. "It must be something _very_ important if you're calling us at home on a Saturday morning."

I rolled my eyes behind his back. _Subtle, Miles. Very subtle._

"I do apologize for that," Michael Carson said quietly, "and I am sorry to have to bother you but, under the circumstances, you two were the _only _ones I could think of to call for help after..."

"Indeed?" Miles interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "After... _what_?"

I could hear dean Carson take a deep breath on the other end and I wondered, for what seemed the hundredth time, _what_ had happened that prompted this early morning phone call. I leaned in closer.

"I... security responded to an... _incident... _in Nathaniel Park. Two students... found..." He paused and I could hear him swallow hard.

My eyebrow raised slightly, punctuated by a loud yawn and another evil look from Miles_. Nathaniel Park? Where's that?_

Miles put his hand across the mouthpiece as dean Carson struggled to catch his breath and compose himself, whispering,"It's a five acre Park on the main campus at Cromwell University, close to the Newarke Golf course and directly across from Primrose Lake."

I stared at him for a moment before I mumbled my thanks. It was creepy, Miles reading my mind like that.

_Either he's psychic or I'm so transparent that you don't have to wonder what I'm thinking. All you have to do is to look at my face._

Miles glared at me with his trademark "Don't-be-an-idiot-Wright" look before turning his attention back to the Dean on the phone who had, at long last, managed to compose himself enough to speak.

_Plainly seen._

"What happened that's upset you so much and prompted this phone call?"

_Funny. That's what_ I've _been wondering!_ I thought sarcastically and was promptly rewarded with a sharp jab in the ribs from Miles.

_Ok. Maybe not._

"I... it's..."

Miles was beginning to get a little impatient over how slow the information he wanted to know was being doled out so he took control of the conversation himself. "You said that two students reported to security that they had found something. What was it?"

"Yes. They... ah... _found_... a... a... _burned_ body in the bushes or, more accurately, what was left of one." He paused again but this time Miles didn't comment for his face had gone as white as a sheet. I, for one, couldn't really blame him.

"A... _burned_ body?" Miles swallowed hard, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Where?"

"In the underbrush in the Park common. Two students were looking for a golf ball and James, one of the two students, poked in the brush and..." He couldn't continue but he didn't have to. We got the picture, loud and clear and it was also clear to us why the Dean had decided to call us in.

"I... see..." Miles intoned quietly after some moments of silence while I managed to successfully stifle a yawn and getting another sharp look, "is there anything else you can tell us before we take the case?"

I heard the Dean's surprised-but pleased-exclamation on the other end and I couldn't help but smile.

"You... you'll... take the case?"

"Of course we will," Miles said smoothly and I was once again reminded of just how good a negotiator he is. "Not only does it present an interesting mystery but it's also a favor for a very dear friend of the Edgeworth family."

Miles closed his eyes for a moment and I, knowing precisely _where_ his thoughts were going, gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I can't forget what you and your family did for me the first week after my father's death when you took me in until I went to live with von Karma. I owe you a great debt of gratitude and I am happy to take the case for this reason."

"It wasn't at all a hardship, Miles; we enjoyed your company and wished you could have stayed with us permanently but..."

"I know... and I never held it against you so why not let it stay in the long buried past where it belongs?"

I fully agreed with that sentiment, fervently wishing that Miles himself could bury _his_ own long dead past.

Michael Carson chuckled sheepishly. "Agreed. At any rate, I have a lot of work to do with this case pending and I would like to discuss it with you both in person. Could you come over to my office this afternoon?"

"Of course. What time do you want us to drop by?"

"Two o'clock sounds like a good time. Is this all right with the two of you?"

Miles looked at me and I nodded back.

"Two o'clock is fine. We'll see you then. Good day."

"Good day to you, too, Miles. Thank you both once again for agreeing to take this case."

"It was our pleasure. See you this afternoon."

Miles replaced the receiver back in its cradle with surprising gentleness and then turned slightly to look at me, his mouth twitching upward in a smile.

"Looks like we have another case on our hands, Phoenix."

I nodded in agreement, a grin spreading over my face and I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him close to me, gently running my fingers through his tousled grey hair. "Looks that way, Miles."

He gently rubbed the tip of his nose against mine before leaning down and pressing his lips gently against mine, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tightly against him. I responded eagerly to his embrace and kissed him until we both had to come up for air, both of us breathing heavily with reddened cheeks.

"I suggest," he murmured in my ear as his teeth fastened onto my earlobe and gently nibbled it, "that, since we have some time to spare before our appointment with Michael that we should spend it in a most... _engaging..._ manner, wouldn't _you_ agree?"

I shivered slightly, a low moan emerging from my lips.

"Oh, yes," I whispered back breathily as he slowly began to lower me to the mattress, his hands caressing my rapidly heating body gently, his teeth latching on to the soft skin of my neck. "I _do_ agree..." I closed my eyes, moaning as Miles sucked hard at my neck, giving myself over to the pleasure that had taken hold of me.

Later, as we lay pleasantly satiated in each others arms murmuring soft words of love, we had _no_ idea of exactly _what_ we were in for when we decided to take this case or the horrifying secrets we would discover that _certain_ people at the university would kill to make sure _stayed _buried.

**-XXXXXXXXXX-**

_October 9th  
2 P.M.  
Michael Carson, dean  
Cromwell University  
His office_

Michael Carson waved us into his office, pumping our hands enthusiastically when we arrived promptly at his office at two o'clock, his plump, red cheeks puffing with relief. It would have been comical if the situation hadn't have been so serious. I didn't need to be reminded since what he had told Miles over the phone had been more than enough.

"It's good to see you gentlemen again," he said pleasantly, watching us as we seated ourselves in the large and very comfortable chairs in front of his mahogany desk, "how are things in your neck of the woods?"

I'm glad that I wasn't the only one that was startled as a quick glance out of the corner of my eye at Miles confirmed. The opening question seemed rather... _surreal_... almost as if it were the beginning of an unrehearsed play that hadn't been quite finished being written first.

I could see dean Carson's hands trembling even as his voice sounded so jovial and I could also hear the slight undercurrent of hysteria in his tone, a point which did not escape Miles' notice as I knew it wouldn't. If _I_ could pick up on it, Miles _certainly_ would.

"Quite well, thank you," Miles replied smoothly, waving his hand in the air. "Business has picked up as well which is a good thing from my perspective." He smiled. "We had some lean times for awhile there some months ago so we are quite happy that things have picked up since then."

"That is wonderful to hear, Miles," Michael remarked, trying to quell the trembling in his hands but not very successfully. "I'm glad." I could see that he meant it, too. The plain truth of the matter was that the man was very upset and I couldn't find it in my heart to blame him.

Being the dean of a major University wasn't an easy job and, when scandal of any sort, particularly one involving a burnt human body being found on the premises, things could get really ugly in a hurry. And, judging by the look on his face and the trembling of his hands that he could no longer conceal, he already was taking some heat from the higher-ups in the University.

_And I thought the legal profession was cutthroat; this seems to be_ much _worse!_ I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It was very clear to me that he was under a _lot _of pressure and it showed itself pretty plainly on his face: The worry lines that spread across his forehead, the dark circles underneath his eyes that indicated he hadn't been sleeping well for awhile and the tremors that he couldn't conceal all pointed to a man under _very_ harsh duress.

I wondered, for what seemed to be the tenth time as I looked at him, exactly _what _was weighing so heavily on his mind, _why_ the police hadn't been called and _why _he had called us in _specifically_ to deal with this case. Somehow, the absence of these things didn't add up.

The dean fell silent after a few more moments, his hands twisting together like snakes on the top of his desk. He looked _very _unhappy and I thought I had a pretty good idea why. What _still_ nettled me was why he didn't just come out and say what was on his mind; I couldn't understand the reasons he had behind it, if there were any. Evidently, Miles had the same questions I did and it was he who at last broke the unbearable silence that had descended upon the three of us.

"I'm surprised that you didn't call in the police right away upon the discovery of the remains," Miles said softly, his sharp eyes glued to the dean's now extremely pale face which, I could have sworn, grew whiter as the seconds passed. "You _know_ that as well as I do and yet, you haven't or, to be fair, you haven't _said _you did." Miles leaned forward, his mouth turned down at the corners as he looked the dean straight in the eye, disappointment and sadness clearly etched on his face. "Why?"

Michael blanched, dropping his eyes to the look at the floor, unable to meet Miles' steely gaze. I couldn't fault the man for quailing underneath that penetrating stare since I'd known many a criminal who had when they faced him in court. There was such an intensity in his eyes that some found disconcerting and others downright scary-and I found it sweetly irresistible-that I knew was part and parcel of _who_ he was, _what_ he believed and _how _he thought. _This_ was the Miles Edgeworth that I had known all those years ago in grade school and I counted myself very lucky when I thought of what we'd gone through in the past and how happy I was that we were together.

My pleasant forage into the 'Miles Edgeworth Appreciation Society' was rudely interrupted by Miles himself as he gave me a sharp nudge that, coupled with a disapproving glare, brought me sharply back to reality. I gulped, blushed beet red, a sickly grin slowly spreading over my face before he turned his attention back to dean Carson who, at last, managed to steady himself enough that he was able to talk.

"You're right, Miles... I _should_ have contacted the police two days ago but I... just... couldn't." He ran his fingers through his brownish-grey hair nervously and looked up, his haunted expression pleading with Miles to understand and, although I could see Miles' conflicted gaze staring back at him, different emotions flickering in tandem across his face, his stern expression never changed.

"Why not?"

"Because... because it... would be detrimental to the interests of the university... and... the scandal would... would be _too _much if... if the police were poking around here..."

"And...?" Miles' expression didn't change but I could hear the subtle anger that had begun to creep in. He _was _upset over what he perceived to be dean Carson's mistake, that much I knew; I couldn't blame him for feeling the way he did since it did seem like the dean _had_ gone out of his way to cover the incident up.

This _did_ surprise me. I didn't know dean Carson all that well but, from the little I knew of him and how Miles talked about him, he _appeared_ to be a man of the highest integrity but what I was seeing here was a _very_ nervous and upset man who seemed to be doing his best to cover up the fact that burnt remains had been found on university grounds.

This didn't square at all with the knowledge I had of him; no wonder Miles was upset! It was one thing to be confronted with the fact that someone you held in the highest regard had feet of clay (being human, which of us doesn't?) but, to seem to be actively engaged in covering up something _without_ bringing the authorities in, as he should have done in the first place, was _something_ else altogether. Not only was it ethically _and_ morally wrong, it was also a criminal offense to knowingly hide a crime, a fact which I knew well that the dean was in no doubt aware of.

"And..." the dean continued after the heavy silence had become too much to bear, his tone very unhappy, "the... President and the Vice-President of the school are putting pressure on me to keep things quiet. '_It could damage our standing in the community if this became public knowledge_,' she said..." The dean sounded disgusted.

"_She_?"

"The president of the university, Trudy G. Hanson," the dean explained, his mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste. I had the feeling that he didn't like Ms. Hanson very much and what he said next confirmed it. "I cannot abide by that...that... _woman_..."-he spat the word out like it was a poisonous viper-"but I didn't have much of a choice." He looked at Miles, his expression weary. "I _tried_ to reason with her, to explain to her why it wouldn't be a good idea to try and keep this quiet. If it got out before we had a chance to get it properly investigated, it would look like we were trying to hide something."

The long built up tension building up inside of Miles relaxed instantly and I let the breath I had been holding out with a huge sigh of relief.

"You tried to tell her that?" he asked quietly, his stern expression beginning to soften somewhat.

The dean nodded. "Yes," he replied, his hazel eyes flickering with an emotion I couldn't _quite_ make out.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Miles' voice was steady and cold.

The dean colored. "I-I... _know_... I should have," he began lamely, spreading his hands out in a gesture of helplessness, "but I... I wasn't thinking clearly, _haven't_ been thinking clearly for the past while. This... I've never had anything like this happen before in the thirty odd years I've been dean here at Cromwell and, to be truthful, it really caught me flatfooted." His cheeks reddened. "I'm embarrassed to admit it but it's nothing more than the truth: I've _never_ had to confront something like this before in my life." He stopped, taking a deep breath. "I know that this sort of... _occurrence_... isn't anything that the both of you haven't come across or dealt with before on a daily basis."

_That's true_, I had to admit, _he_ does _have a point there_. Being the dean of a major university was not like being a Defense Attorney or a Prosecutor: he didn't have to deal with the things that came across both Miles' or my desk on a regular basis. Its not every day that something _this_ horrific shows up on your doorstep; true, there _are_ crimes committed on campus but nothing like this.

"Still, I should have called the police once this incident came to light; I have no excuse and I don't intend to make any." The dean looked at Miles who looked back at him, a curious expression on his face. "I was wrong, Miles, and I am sorry for it." He sat back in his chair, looking very tired and bone weary. "Even though I was ordered by the school's president to keep this quiet, I _should_ have called the authorities and reported it."

Silence reigned for a few tense moments as Miles sat stock still in the chair, the corners of his mouth twitching. I held my breath, wondering what Miles would say or do next. I didn't know and that worried me as I sat in the chair beside him, my eyes glued on the changing expressions that flickered across his face.

For myself, I accepted the dean's explanation and apology as being genuine and I hoped that Miles, ultimately, would as well; I hated the thought of their close association being destroyed because the dean did something he had been ordered _not_ to by someone else. That didn't completely excuse him but it lessened his guilt at least somewhat since he hadn't _knowingly_ covered the incident up; he'd only done what he had been ordered to do by the school's president.

Truthfully, I wasn't sure what I would have done in the same situation and that alone gave me some food for thought. I know what I would like to think I would do but I couldn't, in all honesty, say that what I _thought_ I would do I actually _would _in the same circumstances. I knew that my reasoning sounded too much like the '_Nuremberg Defence_' for comfort but I honestly _couldn't_ deny it in this case, either. No matter _what _he did, _someone_ was going to be unhappy with his decision.

It was plain to me that, no matter _what_ dean Carson did-or, conversely, didn't do-he would be between a rock and a hard place. If he had reported the incident to the authorities against the express orders of the school's president, he would, more than likely, lose his job; on the other hand, if he didn't report it, he'd be in trouble with the authorities. It was a no win situation no matter which way one looked at it and I knew from experience _how_ uncomfortable it was to be in that kind of a situation.

Miles evidently came to the same conclusion a few minutes later since he sat up and looked at the dean, a smile slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth; both dean Carson and I slumped back in our chairs, relief plain on both of our faces as Miles leaned forward, his fingers twined together and resting on his knee, his expression serious.

"I would suggest," Miles remarked candidly, his grey eyes locking onto the dean's hazel ones, "that, to avoid any recurrence of a similar situation in the future, that, should something like this _ever_ happen again that you will report it to the proper authorities _immediately_." His eyes flickered ominously, his voice tinged with warning. "I will _not _let an situation like this slide a second time."

Dean Carson nodded. "It will not happen again, Miles," he said with relief, his mouth curving into the first genuine smile I'd seen since we arrived here over an hour earlier, "I give you my word on that."

Miles nodded and smiled as he untwined his fingers, extending his right hand to the dean who took it with a bewildered look before he shook it heartily, understanding spreading over his face. In his own way, Miles let him know that he forgave him and that their friendship was secure and, for that, I was very grateful since I knew how much his friendship with the dean meant to him.

Once both men had sat back down in their respective chairs_, _Miles twined his fingers together once more and, without preamble, said, "Now tell me what happened here two days ago."

**-XXXXXXXXX-**

_Two figures, a man and a woman, stood listening at dean Carson's door, their faces wearing equal masks of rage as they heard him tell that foppish prosecutor and that meddling defence attorney what had happened at the school two days earlier. _

_"How dare he!" the man spluttered, his body trembling with barely suppressed rage as he turned from the door, his hands clenching into fists, his fingernails digging deeply into his palms. "He has no right, no right at all to go to... them... for help!"_

_His companion nodded in agreement, her teeth clenched tightly together in a frightful grimace that made her cinnamon-lipsticked mouth look like an ugly slash across her face._

_"That damn fool!" she fumed under her breath, her emerald-green eyes hardening and narrowing into evil, little slits, her slender hands clenching into fists, "he'll ruin _everything _we're working toward!" She glanced at her companion, her mind working feverishly. How could he have been so careless?!_

_"What will we do?" the man sputtered, his voice becoming shrill with the force of emotion that was surging through his body. "We _can't _let them discover our plans!"_

_"No," she agreed, pushing herself back from the door, "we can't but we also can't lose sight of our goals by making another foolish mistake." She gave him an angry glare; her companion quailed slightly but looked back at her defiantly, his smoky black eyes glittering. "The last thing we want is to bring those fools straight to our door so, in future, be a little more careful!" _

_He shot her a dirty look and opened his mouth to say something but quickly snapped it shut when they heard the clicking of heels on the tiled floor coming slowly up the walk leading to the front door. She thought a moment, her lips pressed tightly together before she turned and motioned to him to follow her which he did as they made their way to own office at the end of the corridor from dean Carson's._

_It_ was _unfortunate, she surmised as she quietly opened the door and walked inside, her companion following close behind her, that their handiwork _had _been discovered but, now that it was out in the open, they could decide how they were going to deal with it without having the additional worry that, __sooner or later, someone was bound to discover what they had done. _

_They'd found the old man's remains, this was true, but that didn't necessarily mean that this signaled the end of their plans. If anything, they would continue to put their plans in motion but, from hereon in, they would be more careful about how they executed it._

And that, _she thought as she shut the door, a peculiar smile spreading across her face, _is _exactly _what we'll do. _She licked her lips hungrily, her eyes glittering with unsuppressed excitement as she turned to face her companion who eyed her appreciatively as she walked into his arms, her fingers tenderly stroking the back of his neck. _It's time for a return to Antiquity... and _another_ mode of execution!

_She giggled as he started biting her neck and then moaned as his hands became more bold, stroking her hot skin underneath her clothing gently, her mind swimming with images of death. He gently laid her down on top of her desk, thrusting her legs apart and lying down on top of her, his mouth biting her lips with animal passion..._

_There would be another death. _

_Soon. _

_Their revenge would continue... and those fools would pay..._


	3. Chapter 2: Prelude To A Crime

_A/N: I don't own Phoenix Wright or Miles Edgeworth, worse luck; they belong to CAPCOM. Michael Carson, Marlyse Cameron, James Doughtery and the plot are all my creations and belong to me. Modus Operandi is Latin for "Method of Operating."  
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_Miles and Phoenix's investigation into the grisly discovery at Cromwell University begins and, although the dean_ isn't _happy with the line of questioning, he soon sees that _every _venue_ must _be investigated, even if it points to people who are former students and his friends..._

Part three! :) I had, at first, decided to call this chapter "The Students' Story" but, the more I wrote, the longer it became until, 16 pages later, it was much too long for just one singular chapter! :sweatdrop: So, with the good advice of my husband [Thanks, Sweetie!], I decided to split it into two separate chapters and this is the end result! :) I hope the part where Phoenix is starting to put two and two together doesn't come off _too_ weakly; he's trying to figure out what the ultimate connection is (and there _is_ one, as will be evident much later in the story) so he's kind of going through a trial and error phase, thinking about this and wondering about that and how the two connect. Since the investigation is just beginning, it isn't outside the realm of possibility for anything unusual to happen for it oftentimes seems to in the PW universe, especially! :D Anyway, I hope everything makes sense in general and doesn't strain credibility-or credulity-too far in the process!  
As for dean Carson's reactions, I think that would be normal for anyone who feels their friends are being either unjustly attacked or are being blamed for something that he does not think they should be; it would, in my opinion, be in the realm of possibility to have to remind him, even if in a _very_ subtle way, of this fact. This would _not_ be the time to hide anything and, if he did (which he won't) and it came out later on that he did, he would be in serious trouble! It's _always_ better to be honest upfront and tell the investigators _everything_, even if it seems to you that it isn't really relevant!

I'm not sure that the title of this chapter, _Prelude To A Crime_, really fits but I honestly can't think of anything else so, for now, it will stay as is! It may change in future but, for right now, this is it! :)

**Thank you** to all of my readers and who have favourited, read, reviewed, favourite authored/favourite storied/favourite author/author alert and/or story alerted my various fics over the past two years! I hope that my writing has improved over time and I hope that you will continue to enjoy my stories in future! I couldn't do it without you all and I am very grateful to each and every one of you! I can't thank you all enough!

**Thank you **to my beta, Midnight-hunter, for her amazing insights and for all your discussions with me about various aspects of this fic and others! I really appreciate it a lot and you** ROCK!!!**

A _very special _**Thank you** to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all of your help, suggestions, advice, nagging [when necessary!], for your belief in me, for providing support during the writing process so I won't tear my hair out, for lighting the fire to inferno levels within me to write again and for the love you have so generously given me! I am the luckiest woman in the world to have you and I am grateful every day for you! I love you with all of my heart and thank you for all of your help!

**Thank you** to Stranger-danger for your wonderful and insightful commentary! I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me what you like about the story and your other comments along the way are very entertaining as well as enlightening! I hope that you're feeling better after your bout with the flu awhile back and I hope that you will enjoy this chapter! :)

I hope that you will enjoy this latest chapter and, as always, comments are _definitely_ appreciated and_ enthusiastically _welcomed! :)

Rated NC-17, M, Graphic horror and violence, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth  
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_October 9th  
3 P.M.  
Michael Carson, dean  
Cromwell University  
His office_

Michael Carson cleared his throat, his trembling fingers linking together, his face pale and drawn as he remembered the report that crossed his desk, giving Miles a desperate look. He appeared that he was one step away from a nervous breakdown and his voice, when he spoke again, was high-pitched and unhappy.

"You _must"-_and I noted the emphasis that he placed on the word _must-"_understand, Miles, that I have_ never _had anything like this cross my desk in the thirty odd years that I've been dean here at Cromwell!"

_That's the understatement of the year,_ I mused, shifting around in my chair, settling myself more comfortably than my present perch allowed me; I found sitting in one place too long became rather uncomfortable after awhile. A_lthough, to be honest,_ _neither have we. We've had similar cases come across our desks before but nothing quite like this._

I boxed my hand underneath my chin, thinking hard. _What kind of person burns someone as a method of murder? No sane person, that's for certain. There's no question, in my mind at least, that this is indeed a murder case and not merely a missing persons case. _How _did the victim die and in what manner? Furthermore, _what_ was the purpose of killing the victim in this manner? Why try to destroy the body so completely? I know that murderers, in general, try to destroy the body to erase _any_ trace evidence that they may have left behind but why in this particular way? It's almost as if they were trying to make a point.. but about _what_ and _why_? _My eyes narrowed slightly, my brow furrowing._ There's just_ something_ about all of this that bothers me. It's like the perpetrators are trying_ too _hard to destroy the physical evidence or it may be that they're trying to hide their modus operandi by doing something unexpected to throw us off the scent and hide their tracks._

I shuddered, pressing my fingers against my eyes as I remembered the crime scene photos we had perused through earlier this morning at the police station, feeling my stomach begin to twist into all _too _familiar knots. It _never_ ceased to amaze or sicken me the depths to which human beings could sink in their violence against each other.

_It's rather a cold-blooded crime, burning someone to death like that... What bothers me is that I can't really figure out a reason _why _this was done. It's _too_ horrific to be merely coincidence but, at the same time, it feels like it was deliberately done in this way for a reason but I can't figure out what that might be. My _brow furrowed._ Maybe I'm reading too much into it but something just feels wrong about all of this, like there's some other purpose involved that we don't know about yet.  
_

After a subtle nudge from Miles, my attention returned back to the dean. I knew that he was nervous since he had already said previously, when we first began this investigation, that he'd never experienced anything like this before but I kept my peace. Reminding him of the glaringly obvious would be unforgivably rude and even Miles, who knew him intimately, let it pass without comment so I decided to follow his lead in the matter.

He unlinked his hands, his fingers running nervously through his salt and pepper hair. "It's... it's something I hope that I _never _have to see cross my desk again..."

Miles and I nodded in tandem and waited in silence for him to compose himself long enough to continue speaking. A quick glance at Miles from the corner of my eye saw an astute expression cross over his face and I couldn't help but wonder what it was he was thinking about.

"As I said earlier," he continued, his voice somewhat shaky, "I _know _that you and Mr. Wright deal with this kind of thing on a regular basis"-Miles and I both nodded in agreement- "but this is something that I have never dealt with nor could be reasonably expected to have to deal with." He looked at us. "You _do _expect some campus crime, particularly on one this size, but_ nothing _as horrific as this."

Miles nodded in clear agreement and I shifted in my seat once again until a sharp glare out of the corner of his eyes stilled me, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

_Can't argue with him there._

"Quite," he said, his fingers templed together under his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. Silence reigned for some time until he spoke. "You said something about witnesses, I believe, didn't you? The ones who found the remains?"

Dean Carson nodded. "Marlyse Cameron and James Doughtery. Their parents attended here thirty years ago."

Miles' eyebrow raised, a curious look spreading over his face, his index finger tapping his upper lip thoughtfully. "Did they? Interesting."

"Do you think there may be a connection between the two?" I asked, settling myself more comfortably in the seat, my eyes riveted on Miles' face.

"There might be and there might not be." Miles turned his head to look at me, an enigmatic expression on his face. "It's too early to say at this point for certain, Phoenix, but it is something that we might want to keep in mind later on in the investigation." He spread out his hands. "I don't know if it will have any bearing on this case but there _could _be a connection somehow to the students' parents, if only in a cursory way."

I nodded and made a mental note of it, turning my attention back to the dean who didn't seem overly convinced over Miles' pronouncement. Truthfully, neither did I but we had to start somewhere.

"I honestly _don't _think there is any connection between finding those remains and Miss Cameron's and Mr. Doughtery's parents," he said, his tone reflecting his doubt, "I've known both of them for over thirty years; I can assure you that they wouldn't be involved with something as horrific, not to mention criminal, as this."

Miles gave him a hard look, his grey eyes flashing sparks and, even though I wasn't in the line of fire, I instinctively leaned back a little.

"_Nothing_ and _no one_ is above suspicion, Michael," he said coldly, the dean shrinking back a little and even I sat back further in my chair, "and I would prefer that you keep that fact firmly in mind when we begin this investigation." He leaned forward, fixing his steely gaze on the dean. "_Whatever _we discover, _whomever_ we discover to be connected in _any_ way with this incident, _will_ be questioned and taken into account."

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, giving Michael a hard look. It made me_ very_ glad that I wasn't on the receiving end of that cold glare since I could feel the chill reach right down into my bones. "No one is above suspicion... even_ you. _This is_ no_ time to protect your friends, even if you're doing it unconsciously. I will need to know _everything _about them: where they've been; what they do; what they've done since they left Cromwell._ Everything._"

Dean Carson opened his mouth, I suspect, to continue the argument but then snapped it shut, a very unhappy look spreading over his face as the truth of his position sank in. I knew he didn't_ want_ to believe that either of the students' parents could be connected to so horrific a crime but Miles was right: this was _no_ time to protect them. _If_, in the process of our investigation, we uncovered evidence that they _were_ involved-although, I had to admit, it looked quite unlikely that they would be but we had to investigate every angle in this case-even if only in a minor, passing way, it would make the dean look _very _bad, not to mention _very _guilty. Which, in turn, would make the university look bad and the higher-ups in the university definitely would _not_ be pleased.

I hoped fervently that we wouldn't have to point this out to him but I was reassured that the thought had already crossed his mind judging by the unhappy look on his face. I silently thanked Miles for having brought the point home forcefully.

The cost, to _him_ and the _university_, could be a steep one if it was proven in the course of our investigation that he had withheld any information, no matter how small or insignificant. This was serious business and I was glad that he had once again returned to this fact to give the dean a _very_ pointed reminder.

After a long, tense moment, dean Carson lifted his head and gave Miles a very pained look which he did his best to ignore although I did see the right-hand corner of his mouth twitch slightly. I knew just how hard it was on him to be so harsh with someone he considered a very close friend but he had a job to do and, as I well knew, he would pull out all the stops to make sure that he did it thoroughly _and _well.

"What do you need to know?" he asked wearily after the long silence had become too much to bear, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. The dean looked so tired and worn that I felt a surge of sympathy for him; he certainly didn't ask for this walking nightmare to be tossed onto his desk.

I had the feeling that Miles also felt badly-having precious few close associates or friends, Miles cherished the ones that he had-but all that had to be set aside if we were going to get to the bottom of this ghoulish mystery.

"Everything and anything," he replied simply and without preamble.

The dean reached into his desk and pulled out two thick manila folders, stuffed full with papers, clippings and other things, and handed it to Miles without a word. I didn't miss the flash of pain that filled the dean's eyes for a brief moment as he did so; truth be told, I couldn't find it in my heart to blame him for feeling the way he did and I was sure that Miles felt the same way I did which was confirmed a few moments later when he looked at dean Carson compassionately. The ghost of a smile crossed the dean's lips and he nodded once, settling back into his chair. Miles was silent for some time, scanning the thick folders before him with a critical eye. I watched him as he read it over, his eyes narrowing slightly, a soft exclamation escaping from his lips from time to time.

Dean Carson's eyebrow rose and he looked quizzically at me while I merely shrugged as if to say, "_You know how he is_..." and gave the dean a mischievous wink before turning my attention back to Miles. The dean smiled weakly and we waited in an uneasy silence for some time until, at last, he looked up from the folder, his expression neutral as he looked at a point against the office wall behind the dean's desk.

I looked at Miles.

"Did you find anything useful?" I asked when his eyes had at last focused and he shook his head in the negative. With a sigh, he closed the manila folders and handed them back to dean Carson who took it with a relief he didn't even try to hide. Miles' eyebrow rose slightly, the dean flushing in embarrassment at the silent rebuke.

"No," he replied, his eyebrow raising slightly. I knew _that_ look: it said that Miles _had_ been expecting to find something but was annoyed to find that there wasn't a single scrap of evidence that would have pointed in the direction that his thoughts were headed.

I could understand his irritation and, to a certain degree, I could sympathize; it wasn't every day that you find cremated remains on a university campus and, once the media got a hold of the story, then all collective hell would break loose which would not only put a spotlight onto the case, but it would make our investigation more difficult for us. Miles had been formulating a hypothesis in his mind based on his talk with the dean, no doubt taking this into consideration, before he read the file. Having to already close one venue to the investigation even before it really got off the ground was vexing so I could fully appreciate where Miles was coming from, as well.

I couldn't blame either of them for feeling the way they did since this very horrific crime was already casting a long shadow on both parties. As I mulled over this, I could well appreciate dean Carson's wish for complete discretion even though, as we had pointed out to him earlier, the university _should_ have called the police the very moment that the students had called in to the university security to report what they had found.

I could understand the university's President's stance on the matter although, when I thought about it, her reaction seemed a little... _odd_, for lack of a better word. Yes, remains _had_ been found on the university grounds and yes, I could well understand that she would want to have this handled in a discreet manner but to try and push it underneath the rug in order to deliberately bury it was, in and of itself, very suspicious and this troubled me. Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill on this issue but it kept nagging at me in the back of my mind and I decided that I would talk to Miles about it later on to get his thoughts on the matter. It may ultimately prove to be nothing of value but I wanted to make _very _sure of that before consining it to the rubbish heap and moving on to another venue of investigation.

The heavy silence was becoming too much for me to bear so I decided to break it by asking the dean a question that had been forming in my mind while we were talking to him.

"Dean Carson?"

The dean looked up, startled and I was made aware of just how loud my voice sounded in the deafening quiet of his office. "Yes?"

"You said that there were two witnesses who found the remains: James Doughtery and Marlyse Cameron, correct?"

"Yes," he replied, obviously impressed with my memory while Miles' eyebrow raised slightly, wondering where I was going with this and why I asked in the first place.

"Is there any way that we can contact them and bring them in to talk to us?"

The dean's face brightened at that and he nodded. "Yes, just give me a moment and I'll have them come in." He picked up the phone, pressed a button and waited until someone picked up on the other line.

While the dean was talking on the phone, Miles turned his head to look at me, a smile spreading over his face as he leaned over to whisper, "Well done, Phoenix" and gave me a quick buss on the mouth before settling back into his chair. I blushed in pleasure.

The dean put down the phone back into its cradle after a few minutes, his face looking less haggard than it had when we had first come in to his office and I assumed that the call had been successful and he confirmed this when he spoke.

"I've reached them though their R.A. and told them to come to my office to speak with you," he said, "I also told them to leave nothing out and to cooperate fully in your investigation. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you, dean Carson," I said warmly and he waved aside my thanks with a jaunty wave of his hand.

"No need. I'm happy that I have at least managed to do something right since this whole mess began and I'm hoping to make up for both my lack of foresight in this matter and the mistakes I made in judgment."

We sat in silence for five minutes more before we heard a discreet knock on the oak door. I looked at Miles and he looked back at me as we both nodded: the students had arrived. Dean Carson looked at us both almost as if in inquiry and, when we both nodded, he called out, "Come in!" in a very strong voice which startled me for a brief moment with its strength and intensity.

The door slowly opened to admit two very young and very scared people and the reason for their nervousness was pretty obvious: they weren't sure why they had been called in and were probably afraid that they were in some kind of trouble.

I could see the fear in their eyes and I rose to greet them, extending my hand and smiling brightly. I wanted to put them at ease-and I knew that meeting people in the legal profession could be nerve-wracking-enough that they could tell us their story and, judging by their slowly relaxing expressions as each shook my hand in turn, I succeeded.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Doughtery and Miss Cameron," I said plaesantly as I shook their hands in succession. "Thank you for coming down to see us and talk with us. My name is Phoenix Wright"-I gestured to Miles with my other hand, who gave them a solemn bow with his head- "and this is my partner, Miles Edgeworth, who also happens to be the prosecuting attorney for L.A."

"H-hello, Sir," Marlyse quavered while James put his hand gently on her shoulder, his prim eyes never once leaving my face, "y-you're w-welcome... I-I'm sorry that... that..."

I waved it away. "Don't worry, Ms. Cameron," I said soothingly, the expression on her face pathetically grateful, "you both have had a nasty shock and I'll try to make this as painless as I possibly can. We _do_ have some questions for you both in regard to this incident and we'd appreciate your full cooperation." I gestured to the dean, who nodded in agreement. "He has said that he wants you both to talk freely to us and tell us what happened; you won't get into trouble for talking to us. Just tell us what happened and omit nothing, even if it sounds trite or unimportant at this time."

James and Marlyse nodded and walked over to the chairs that had been set up for them across from where Miles and I were presently sitting and sat down. Marlyse was the more nervous of the two and her shaking hands, despite her best efforts to still them, trembled noticeably in her lap, her fingers twisting around and around like snakes.

_That poor girl_, I thought sympathetically, _she's had such a nasty shock that one really can't __blame her for being so upset like she is. _I glanced at James out of the corner of my eye and, when I saw his protective stare glaring back at me, I chuckled quietly to myself since it reminded me so much of Miles and myself in the early days of our relationship_. She's lucky that she has him to look out for her; she'll need him, in the days and months to come._

"There is nothing to fear, I give you my word," I said soothingly, leaning forward a little in my chair, my hands lying on my lap. "All we want is to hear from you both what happened and how you came upon the body. Let me stress once more that neither of you are in any trouble; we just want to know what your story is for our investigation into this matter, that's all."

Marlyse looked at James, her eyes wide and fearful; he nodded encouragingly.

"I... I... don't... know if I can... if... I-" She swallowed hard, tears springing into her eyes while James' arm tightened around her shoulders. "I... I've... never seen... something so... so... _horrible_... in my life!"

"It's all right, Miss Cameron," I said quietly once again, leaning forward until my elbows touched my knees, my fingers twined together. "I know that this is a _very _difficult time for you right now and I do sympathize but we have human remains that once belonged to a living, breathing person and we_ need_ to find out who that is, if we can." I looked at her as she gasped in horror, trying to soften the blow as much as I could. "_Anything_ you can tell us will really be a big help to us; perhaps it may even point the way to the killer."

Marlyse lifted tearful eyes to look at the dean, her lip trembling.

"Do... do... I... have to see...the..." She swallowed hard. "The... b-b...?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word "body."

The dean shook his head.

"No, Miss Cameron, you do not," he said firmly and I could see relief flooding through her like a stream and, once again, I found myself feeling very sorry that she had had to go through such a terrible experience, "you've had enough of an unpleasant experience as it stands right now and I have no desire to make you suffer more than is strictly necessary. Talking to Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth is_ more _than enough."

Marlyse looked at Miles and I in turn, her face softening a little as we both nodded in agreement. She then looked at James and he also nodded, an encouraging smile spreading over his face. I saw a small smile flicker over her face, probably the first one she'd had since she discovered the remains two days earlier. Marlyse gulped, took a deep breath and asked in a rush, "What do you want to know?"

"Just tell us what happened two days earlier, Miss Cameron," I said, settling back in my chair while James held her hand tightly in his own, his other arm draped about her shoulders protectively. "That's all we want to know. What happened two days ago when you found the remains in Nathaniel Park?"

Marlyse looked at James once again and he squeezed her hand comfortingly, murmuring, "Tell them what happened; if you can't go on, I'll take over and tell them the rest."

Her face brightened at that and it was with renewed, if uncertain, vigor that she turned back to face us and began to tell us her story. True to his word, when it became too difficult for her to speak of the horror she'd witnessed in finding the burnt remains, James took over and filled us in on the rest of the story.

Miles and I sat back in our chairs, our faces devoid of all expression as James and Marlyse took us back to what had happened two days earlier... and that horrifying moment in time that I doubted that either of them would ever be able to forget.


	4. Chapter 3: The Students' Story

_A/N: I don't own Phoenix Wright or Miles Edgeworth; CAPCOM does. The plot, the victim, Dean Carson, Marlyse Cameron, Elizabeth Partridge and James Doughtery belong to me. Mode of death is historical and not found anywhere in the AA series. :)  
-_

_The investigation into the burnt remains on campus begins. A phone call will solidify the horrible death the victim suffered and the students' story will open a new chapter into the horrifying truth behind the death... and the secrets that someone at Cromwell University is trying to hide will be revealed for all the world to see..._

The investigation into the death of the victim found at Nathaniel Park will now begin! It's going to be _quite _a hard investigation to do when Phoenix and Miles will be getting stymied at every turn... which will happen in the next chapter when the President tries to stop the investigation before it even starts.

The story of the two college students, James Doughtery and Marlyse Cameron, makes a nice introduction to the next chapter and it fills the informational gaps nicely. :) They may be back later on; it's difficult to say at this point but you never know. :) Medical information on burning skin and damage from the Brazen Bull is from Dr. David Sustak from the T.V. program _Surviving History, Episode 3: Brazen Bull_ and from Wikipedia.

At any rate, I hope that you will enjoy this latest chapter! :) It's a bit long so I apologize in advance for the length!

_**Thank you **to all my readers: those who have commented, read, reviewed, favourited/story alerted my stories and thanks also to those who have author alerted/favourite authored, as well! I appreciate it very much! I am glad that you are enjoying my stories and I hope that you will continue to enjoy them in the future! :)_

**Thank you** to my beta, Midnight-hunter, for her superb betaing skills! Thanks a bunch! :) Much appreciated! :)

A **very special Thank you** to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all of his help, advice, nagging [when necessary], for reigniting the fire within me to write and support during the writing process so I won't tear my hair out! :) Love you and thank you!

As always, comments and suggestions are warmly welcomed and appreciated!

Hope you enjoy!

Rated Mature, Graphic horror and violence, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth  
-

_Two days earlier..._

_October 7th  
Cromwell University, Nathaniel Park_  
_Los Angeles, CA  
5:44 P.M._

_Two college students, a young man and a young woman, were poking about in the underbrush in the Park Common, looking for an errant golf ball that the young man had hit into the brambles._

"Do you see it?" _he asked anxiously as his companion, a young lady who was at the present moment bent over and looking in the bramble bush, searched diligently, poking and prodding deep into its prickly heart. _"I thought it came over this way from the fairway."

_She stood up straight a few moments later and shook her head, brushing off little bits of dirt and brambles that stuck to her black skirt like glue with an impatience, giving him an aggrieved look._

"It isn't _in_ there," _she said, sighing as her companion made soft exclamations of distress. _"Wherever it went in there, _if_ it did, it _isn't_ in _that _spot."

"Where could it have gone to, Marlyse?" _he asked, squinting into the hole in the brush while she rolled her eyes dramatically behind his back. Best friend from childhood or no, she mused, he could be a royal pain when he chose to; this was definitely one of those particular times. "_I saw it come down this way; it _must_ be here somewhere! There isn't any other place it possibly _could_ be!"

_A few choice responses to that statement immediately came to mind but, as tempting as it was to puncture his priggish demeanor with a razor sharp response, she brushed these aside and instead chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully, her hands balled into fists and resting lightly on her hips._ "I have _no_ idea where it's gotten to, James, but it _isn't _here." _She thought a moment. _"Should we look a little further down?"

_Both in their senior year, Marlyse and James had come to Cromwell University in order to study together, much to the delight of both sets of parents._ _Marlyse rolled her eyes whenever she thought of her parents' enthusiasm over her going to Cromwell University with James; she was_ well _aware that both her parents, not to mention his, had hopes that they would eventually fall in love and marry as they had although she really didn't see this happening any time soon. She chuckled. Or at all, really._

_He was her best friend, it was true, but she had no feelings beyond that of a cherished childhood friend and playmate and she doubted that she ever would. But, for all of his flaws, and there were many, he still held a special place in her heart so one couldn't really say that nothing more would come of it since she didn't know. She was content to leave that up to fate and, for now, to concentrate on her studies. James was studying to become an Engineer and Marlyse was studying History_; _beyond that, neither of them had any hard and fast plans for the future courses of study beyond their Bachelor degrees save, perhaps, for a Masters degree in their chosen fields some years down the line._

_She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present._

No wonder they call it 'Love U,' _she thought with some amount of disdain as she followed James as he walked further down the fairway, poking into the bushes intermittently along the way with his golf club, peering inside and moving on again._ They've certainly had enough people marrying later on to warrant it. _She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes behind his back, her mouth twisting into a grimace._ I don't know _why _that happens but it seems to occur with such frequent regularity that you _can't _simply put it down to just pure coincidence.

_She brushed her skirt absentmindedly once again._ I'm _still_ not convinced that it's such a good reputation to be tarred within the long run. What if some of the matches don't last? _She smiled wolfishly._ That _couldn't_ be good for business! The whole thing is just silly.

"Do you see anything?" _James asked again in a tight voice, breaking into her train of thought and she looked at him as he stood up, giving her an injured look that Marlyse chose to ignore, shaking her head in the negative. _

"Nothing yet," _she replied, swatting at a passing insect with impatience, giving her companion a hard look out of the corner of her eye. It was a very hot day today; she felt sticky and uncomfortable which had the unfortunate side effect of making her quite irritable and shrewish. _"Keep looking."

"You _could _try to help," _he snapped, giving her an evil glance, thrusting the golf club with a little more force than was absolutely necessary deep into the brambles, _"instead of just standing there looking wise!"

_Marlyse gave him a black look._

"I've _already_ ruined one skirt crawling around in the dirt searching for the golf balls that _you_ lost last semester and I don't intend to add another one to the growing list, thank you!" _she retorted, her green eyes narrowing and glaring dagger at him, her mouth twisting with anger._ "It wasn't _my_ fault that _you_ lost your damn ball so I'd appreciate it if _you_ wouldn't be such a prig about it. It's damnably annoying and irritating in the extreme and I'm heartily sick of it _and_ you!"

_James opened his mouth to reply but snapped it shut once he saw the angry look on her face and settled for muttering some choice words under his breath as he thrust his golf club once more deep into the bushes, stopping when he heard what sounded like a soft but slightly wet and brittle thump._

_He froze, swallowing hard. He wasn't at all sure of what exactly had caused the weird sound but he was certain that he didn't want to find out._ _Still, he knew he had to look, whether he wanted to or not and, with great trepidation, leaned forward, parting the thorny branches with his hands and pushing through four feet to an opening. _

_He couldn't figure out exactly why he was feeling so nervous but the eerie feeling persisted the further he burrowed his way into the thicket, not to mention a very sickeningly sweet but burnt odor was permeating the area and it was starting to make him feel queasy. He coughed and wiped his streaming eyes before going forward; the smell became stronger the further he went in, poking and prodding with his nine-iron as he continued deeper into the brambles. _

_He was thinking of quitting and leaving, since he couldn't see his golf ball anywhere in the immediate area, when he saw that he had come to a natural opening in the branches; he could dimly see a glimmer of a dirty-white object glinting in the gloomy interior and, with a cry of pure joy, practically launched himself into the opening._

At last! _he thought exultantly, pushing away the last bit of branches. _I've finally fou-

_His eyes widened with horror at what he saw lying inside, his body beginning to shake uncontrollably, his gorge rising as he desperately fought off the urge to vomit. He was sweating profusely as he let the branches fall back into place and quickly turned on his knees, scrambling out of the brush as fast as he could make his rubbery legs move. He leapt to his feet as soon as he was clear of the brush, his face draining of all color until it was a pasty white, his hands trembling. _

_Marlyse had stopped to take a breath before continuing on with her tirade but, noticing the very queer expression on his face, she stopped shouting at him, looking at him curiously. He looked scared and so pale that she couldn't help wondering had happened that brought about such a dramatic change in him._

"James?" _Marlyse said, frowning as she saw his strained, white face, his whole body shaking visibly. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder and she felt it trembling visibly."_What's the matter? Are you all right?"

_He didn't speak for several minutes and she saw the struggle he had trying to regain some measure of control over himself; whatever it had been that scared him, it must have been considerable since he was one of the most stolid men she had ever known. _

_Stubborn, too; there wasn't much that frightened him-in truth, she had always been impressed by that since she had been rather skittish growing up and the target of many a bully-but she couldn't think for the life of her what on earth had frightened him so badly that he was shaking like a leaf._

_She looked past him into the hole in the hedge and bent down to take a closer look but he grabbed her arm before she had a chance to do so, jerking her back upward. She turned to give him a good piece of her mind but the angry words died on her lips when she took one look at his pale, white face._

"Marlyse..." _he said, his mouth working in the most terrible grimace, his skin clammy and his body trembling. _"_Don't_ look in there..."

"Why not?" _she asked, her eyes narrowing, blazing with blue fire. _"I don't know _what's _got you so worked up but I'm going to find out if you won't tell me. Now, if you would _kindly_ remove your hand from my arm, I would _really _appreciate it!"

_He held her arm even tighter, shaking his head violently. Marlyse was frightened by the horrified look in his eyes and wondered again what he could have seen that made him react in such a manner._

"For the love of God, Marlyse," _he barked, his grip on her arm tightening, his lips snaking back to reveal tightly clenched teeth, making his pale, frightened face look like a demented death's head, _" just _listen_ to me for once! _Don't_ look in there!"

_She stared at him, her mouth working but unable to make a sound; the intensity of his gaze frightened her although she did her best not to let it show. She had no idea of what he had seen that had changed him like this: he looked scared and sick, both at the same time._

_Still, her pride refused to let her admit that he could be right and it was with narrowed eyes and a voice of ice that she said, in a tone brooking _no _argument, _"Let me go, James. _Now._"

_He looked startled and opened his mouth as if to argue with her but, giving in to what he knew to be the inevitable, he opened his hand and let her arm go. His eyes were troubled as she rubbed her arm quickly, giving him a dirty look and his mouth turned down at the corners, shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets._

"I warned you, Marlyse," _he said one final time before she bent down to take a look at whatever it was that James had seen in the thicket,_ "always remember that _I_ warned you and _you _refused to listen."

_She shrugged and pushed aside the branches, leaning forward until she saw something in the bushes, a sour, sweet smell coming from deep within. The odor became stronger the further in she went until she had to cover her mouth with her hand in order to go any further in._

God! _she thought, her stomach beginning to churn as she made her way in deeper, _what the hell is that _awful_ smell?! _She wrinkled her nose, trying to keep her stomach from lurching as the sickeningly sweet odour grew stronger the further she went in. _It smells like twice burnt pork.

_She pulled out her shirt and, bringing the bottom up to her face, quickly wiped her streaming eyes. Whatever that god awful smell was, it was_ quite _pungent and it stung her eyes, making them water. Taking her hand away and covering her nose and mouth with her shirttail, she gently brushed apart the branches with her free hand, poking her head carefully through the hole she'd made. _

_She was beginning to wish that she _had _listened to James-wouldn't he laugh if he knew!-and not bothered coming in here but she refused to back down now that she had made such a fuss about it. She sighed, pressing a branch to the side wondering why, of all times, why she was thinking of James at this particular moment which inevitably led to another question: _why _was she thinking of him at all?_

_She brushed aside these thoughts impatiently, narrowing her eyes as she squinted to get a better look, shielding her eyes with her free hand. The odor was much stronger here and she was having a very hard time to keep from heaving as the acrid stench hit her nose even through the shirt she had covering it._

_She closed her eyes tightly shut, turning her head to the right in order ot avoid the smell but, though she tried, she couldn't escape it and her eyes watered even more profusely than they had before._

What is that?! s_he thought, her gorge starting to rise, feeling sick from both the smell and a mouthful of bile that flooded her mouth. _It's... so... strange... and I... feel quite... _ill_ for some reason... _Jerking the shirt away from her face, she spat it out onto the ground behind her, feeling dizzy as the stench assaulted her already overloaded senses with a fresh wave of sweet-smelling decay much like the scent of dying flowers in a crypt._

Oh... God... I'm... going...I...feel ...Oh, God... so... _faint_... _She felt her body slowly pitching forward and she put her hand down on the ground in front of her in order to steady herself as a wave of dizziness passed over her. She felt so sick and dizzy she could hardly see, willing herself not to pass out._

_She could dimly hear James' concerned voice shouting at her from what seemed a distance and she tried to respond to his call but her voice came out as a strangled croak as she turned her head slightly to the right... and froze at the horrific sight which greeted her shocked eyes a foot in front of where her hand rested._

Oh...my...GOD! _Her terrified mind didn't want to comprehend the sickening display that lay pitifully on the ground or the awful odor that was assaulting her nose and nearly making her ill was coming from these burnt... _things_. _

_She wasn't quite sure at first _exactly _what it was that she was looking at but, as her eyes cleared a little more, she could see that what was spread out before her in the thicket were burnt remains. Animal or human, she couldn't tell, but it was clear that they had been here for some time by both the stench and the marks she could see on some of the bones._

_With a strangled scream torn from deep within her, Marlyse shot backward, landing on her rump, scrabbling to try and get away from those awful things. Her feet kicked the ground mutinously, wondering why she wasn't going anywhere, screaming mindlessly as her fingers tore up the ground around her, her eyes wide open but not seeing. _

_She didn't even hear James pounding into the thicket after her, drawn by her horrified screams until he had his arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her back; she fought him until she realized who it was that was holding her and, with a sob of relief, she went limp in his arms, her head pressed against his chest._

_She was still shaking even after James had pulled her clear of the thicket and made his way over to the large oak tree a few feet away, clinging to him desperately, sobbing like a child when he had tried to gently put her on the ground, nearly dragging him along with her as he momentarily lost his balance._

"Marlyse..." _he whispered tenderly, righting himself before he fell over and gently stroking the top of her head before he sat down beside her on the ground and leaning against the tree. "_It's ok... You're safe... it's ok..."

_He wrapped his arms back around her once again, cupping the top of her head underneath his chin, gently rocking back and forth, crooning softly as she cried, clinging to him like a drowning man to a life preserver. _

_She would never forget what she had seen: the blackened, protruding bones, the smell of burnt, decaying flesh, the blackened, grinning skull, shattered ribs, the burnt...hand that was clenched as if in its death agony... At first glance, she couldn't see if the remains were human or animal but, once she'd gotten closer to them and saw them close up, she realized that these were _human _remains, the shape of the skull and what was left of the hands were a clear indicator._

_She wished that she had listened to James in the first place and not let her pique and anger at him get the better of her. She was stunned that James had come in after her but very grateful as well. As she cuddled close to him, as if she were trying to climb into his body to hide and he stroked her head tenderly, murmuring soft words of comfort, she knew that neither of them would ever be the same again. They had shared a horrifying experience that no one should ever see and it changed them both in ways that neither of them could even begin to imagine at this point; it was enough, for now, that they clung together like lost children, James comforting her as much as he could and Marlyse very grateful for James' warmth and tender loving care._

_James could see that from the blank yet terrified look in her eyes and the way she kept shaking that she had had one _very _nasty shock and she screamed like a banshee if he even so much as put a little space between them in order to settle himself more comfortably beside her. Not that he could really blame her for feeling that way; he was _still _a little shaken himself. In the end, he'd had to improvise a little and moved very slowly, making sure to have her pressed against him as he lowered himself to the ground beside her, leaning back against the base of the large oak tree, pressing her head to his chest._

_She'd started a little as he did so but he quickly moved to comfort her and she had soon settled down again._

_For himself, he _had _been annoyed with her for her callous dismissal of his warning in such a haughty manner but, as soon as she started screaming, all pique left him and he ran to her side immediately, knowing that she had seen that same terrible sight that he had that had shaken him to his very marrow. When he had heard her terrified screams, he'd tossed all his anger and annoyance at her to the wind and had rushed in to pull her out of there, trying not to look at what lay on the ground in front of her kicking feet as he did so until he had managed to extricate her from the brush._

_They sat in silence for some time, the last rays of the slowly setting sun sweeping across the park but James and Marlyse weren't aware of it until James lifted his head and saw, to his surprise, that it was dark; the overhead light in the Park was shining brightly a few feet away, a beacon in the darkness._

_Marlyse looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping, her voice hoarse and he looked at her, his fingertips gently running over the tight skin of her cheeks. Her lips parted softly with a quiet gasp of surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling her head on his shoulder._

"James...?" _she asked, her voice quivering with fear. _

"Yes, Marlyse?" _he replied as tenderly as he could, sliding his fingertips over her jaw line, his brown eyes wide with wonder and speechless respect as he stared deeply into her green eyes._

"Did you... _see._..what I...I-"

"Yes, I did." _He cupped her head in his hand, kissing her tear-stained cheeks tenderly. _

"I-i-is..." _She had trouble getting the words out, in between hiccups and sobs that burst from her in a steady stream, shaking with terror and horror. Pitiful mewls poured from her tightly compressed lips before she burst into tears again, loud, racking sobs torn from her._

_James held her close as she cried, burying his fingers in her hair, his cheek resting against the top of her head. He closed his eyes, his other hand gently rubbing slow circles on her arm, feeling her body shake with the horror of what she had seen._

I warned you, Marlyse_, he thought morosely, opening his eyes and looking toward the hedge again before jerking his head away in disgust, _I _wish_ that you would have listened to me. _He sighed and quickly murmured soft words of comfort when he felt her body jerking with the strength of her emotions. _I would have gladly spared you this horror. _He held her protectively against him._ You shouldn't have had to see that.

_When the last bit of emotion had been wrung from her, Marlyse at last fell quiet, clinging to James like a drowning man to a life preserver, her eyes wide open and unseeing. He continued to hold her for many moments until she, herself, pulled away from him though her arms were still firmly locked around his waist. He was glad that the gloomy darkness hid his red face._

"I-i-is... is.."

"Yes," _he replied, holding her tightly once more against him, his eyes looking out into the darkness beyond the light. "_It is.._."_

_She fell silent for awhile before she spoke again._

"Will we...will we...?"

_He nodded, cradling her head against his chest._

"Yes," _he said firmly,_ "we _have _to report it to campus police as soon as possible."

"_Who_...who..._was_...?"

_He shook his head._

"I... don't … know," _he said slowly_, "but... whoever it was, he-or she-had a family... and..." _He couldn't continue but she knew what he was trying to say._

_She nodded as James pulled out his cell phone, flipped it open and dialed, both of them keeping their eyes averted from the hedge a few feet away..._

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

Miles, his fingers intertwined and boxed underneath his chin, looked at Marlyse and James when they had finished their story, his expression blank. The two students quailed under his gaze, fidgeting nervously and I could well imagine what was going through their minds from the expressions on their faces and their body language as a whole. I'd seen many a criminal do the very same thing when Miles prosecuted their cases. He was very good at what he did and the intimidation factor did help in many of his early cases and some of the cases we had taken on together.

"And that's what happened, Mr. Wright," James concluded, his arm tightening around the now sobbing Marlyse's shoulders, murmuring soft words of comfort. "We didn't know at the time if the remains were human or not; we still don't."

Miles looked at me and I nodded and then turned his attention back to James who watched him with a look of dread on his face, clutching Marlyse to him like a drowning man with a life preserver. I couldn't really blame him for reacting like that; Miles _could _intimidate even the most hardened criminal who came before him in court and this was definitely another time when I was _very _glad that those steely grey eyes were _not_ focused on _me._

"The remains _were_ positively identified as human," Miles began while Marlyse gasped in horror and James swallowed hard, "although we don't know exactly at this time whom they once belonged to."

Marlyse wailed, covering her face with her hands, half-turning to bury her face in James' chest while he held her even closer, his own face white.

"Are... are you... sure?" James asked, his voice harsh with emotion. "Are you absolutely sure that... what we found... is... is.._. human_?"

Miles nodded, a grim look on his face.

"One hundred percent sure," he replied. "The remains that you two found in Nathaniel Park _are_ human which upgrades this from a simple missing persons case to a murder investigation."

James' eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tightening.

"Missing... persons?" he asked, doubt and fear co-mingling in his voice while both Miles and I nodded. "H-how... when...?"

"As of eleven-thirty this morning," I replied while both James and Marlyse blanched. "We don't know who he or she is-was-yet but we're awaiting word from the M.E.'s office if the remains belonged to a male or a female and of what age." I looked at my watch. "They should be calling soon."

_I hope so, at any rate. _I looked at my watch again, my foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor. _They should be done about now._

Marlyse began to cry quietly again and James held her close, comforting her as best as he could, Miles and I looking on sympathetically. That something _this_ horrific had happened to these two young people was damnably unfair but, as I had said more than once, life _was_ unfair.

If life were fair, I reflected, a sour taste rising in my mouth, Miles' father wouldn't have been taken from him when he was a youngster by his twisted mentor and Miles wouldn't have suffered untold horrors at von Karma's hands or the horror of what von Karma had planned to do to him. Miles wouldn't also have felt the need to disappear, trying to escape memories that, in the end in the aftermath of DL-6, were _too_ much for him to bear.

I felt my hand slowly curling into a fist at my side and I forced myself to calm down. James and Marlyse were very upset and needed all the help they could get; remembering the unhappy past was not the way to go about supplying it. All that would accomplish was to make me angry and I didn't want either of them to think that this anger was directed in any way at them since it wasn't.

James didn't miss a beat.

"Are you ok, Mr. Wright?" he asked, concern plain in his voice.

_Damn. He saw it._

I smiled back at him as if to reassure him, not to mention myself, that I was all right although I did wonder about the shaking in my hands.

"I'm all right, Mr. Doughtery," I replied, pasting a smile on my face that I hoped would pass for genuine, trying to quell the trembling in my hands. "I was just... remembering the past, that's all."

Thankfully, he didn't ask any more questions and instead turned his attention to Marlyse, holding her close to him and murmuring soft words that I couldn't _quite _catch. I couldn't help but smile when I saw how protectively he held her and how she responded to that by pressing as close as she could to him.

_I wonder how long it will be before they get together. They'll make a wonderful pair. I_ chuckled as I half-turned to see Miles standing beside me, a mischievous half-smile on his lips. I gave him a wide grin back before turning to look at the antique clock on the dean's mantel, my thoughts taking a darker turn.

_It seems that at least one problem is solved but then, there's another looming question: where do we go from here? We at least have a start but where will it ultimately end up leading to? _And the most troubling question of all: _Whom we will find to be the guilty party and who's life will it hurt or destroy?_

I didn't have the answer to those questions and it troubled me but I forced a smile on my face, trying to hide my dark thoughts and fears. One thing was certain: someone or perhaps several someone's could be connected to this ghoulish murder but time would tell if it was anyone at the university although, in the back of my mind, this seemed like a forgone conclusion.

It _had _to be someone at the university, of this I was convinced of; even at this early stage in the investigation, I was _certain_ that someone from Cromwell was connected with the crime. The burning question remained: who which was closely followed by: how?

I was so deep in thought that I nearly missed the ringing of my cell phone, the Steel Samurai ring tone bringing me firmly back to the present. I jumped a little before plunging my hand into my jacket pocket, my fingers tightening around the cell phone as I brought it out, flipped it open and, pressing the "talk" button, brought it to my ear.

"Phoenix Wright," I said crisply as the voice of Elizabeth Partridge, L.A. county's coroner, came on the line.

She chuckled, her warm, rich voice brimming with amusement. "Good afternoon, Phoenix. How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you, Ms. Partridge," I replied, stepping back to the furthest corner of the dean's office which happened to be right by the window that overlooked the university Commons. "I'm assuming that the reason for this call is that you have some news for us pertaining to this case?"

"Elizabeth, please. Yes, we've positively identified the remains"-I could hear the faint rustling of papers being shuffled in the background-"as being human and of an elderly male about seventy years of age, give or take a year or two." I see Miles walking over to where I stood through the window, nodding once to the inquisitive look I could see in his eyes from behind me. "Causes of death were a combination of hypoxia, smoke inhalation and third degree burns."

I closed my eyes tightly. "Was he dead when he was burning?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach and dreading the answer.

_I hope that he wasn't alive. I can't think of any worse fate than burning to death._

She sighed. "No, he wasn't. He _may,_ and this is only a conservative estimate at best_, _have lived at least fifteen to twenty minutes or so _after_ his skin started burning but he _was _alive when it did. The thermal damage was quite extensive."

I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat. I'd hoped that the victim _hadn't_ been alive when he started burning and that the smoke had gotten to him first before the fire did and it made my stomach feel even worse to know that he _had_ been alive when he caught on fire.

I could feel Miles' comforting hand lying on my shoulder, squeezing it tenderly and I was very grateful for his presence at this moment especially. That someone would _deliberately_ burn someone when he was alive when they did and that the perpetrators made sure that the victim was alive while he burned raised the callousness of _this_ crime to new heights of diabolical cruelty.

"Phoenix?" I could hear Ms. Partridge's concerned voice coming from out of the fog somewhere. "Are you all right?"

I waited for my stomach to settle before I answered. "Yes, Ms. Par-I mean, Elizabeth. I'm just feeling a little... _queasy_, that's all."

"I can well imagine," she said sympathetically. "It's quite a nasty shock, to say the least, even to me who deals with death in its various forms every day."

I believed it, too. "I agree; this has really... hit me pretty hard, a lot harder than I expected." She remained silent. "I've never come across something _this_ vicious before and the method... God, it_ sickens_ me!"

"I can't argue with you there," Elizabeth said quietly although I could hear the underlying tone of fury in her voice bubbling _just_ underneath the surface. "I've not come across this kind of extreme cruelty before in my nearly thirty years with the M.E.'s office although I have had cases that came close but nothing with _this _degree of barbarism and malice." I could hear the _very_ real and palpable concern in her voice. "You have one _very_ sick individual here, Phoenix. Be careful."

"I will and thank you."

"My pleasure. Oh and Phoenix?"

"Yes?"

"Get the bastard responsible for this."

"I will."

"Good. Say hello to Miles for me, will you? Give him my best."

"I'll do that. Is there anything else you can tell us about the victim? Did he have any personal affects on him before he was burned?"

"None that I saw except for a half-burned picture we took out of the pocket of his jeans. I'm surprised that it survived at all but somehow it did, although the middle is missing and the corners are burnt, it's still in remarkably good shape considering."

My eyebrow raised. This was an interesting bit of information. "What kind of picture was it?"

"A faded snapshot of a woman, very pretty, too," Elizabeth replied, "and I'm assuming that it is an old photo of either his wife or daughter that he was carrying around; since its pretty beat up, that tells me he's had it on his person for quite a few years."

"How many?"

"I'd estimate at least thirty to forty, give or take."

"Hmmm." I put this away in the back of my mind so I could digest it at a later date. "Is there anything else?"

"No, that's about all I have to tell you at the present. Stop by tomorrow afternoon at my office and we can go over the autopsy report in more detail, if you like; I'd rather go over it face to face than over the phone, anyway."

"That sounds like a good idea," I said brightly, turning to Miles and relaying the information to him in a hurried whisper. "What time will you be available?"

"I have a few more autopsies to do so I should be done about three-thirty or five o'clock, at the very latest."

"Excellent! We'll see you at around five or five-thirty, since we both have some more interviews to conduct with the dean and then with the university president which I'm assuming will take a bit of time to do."

"All right, Phoenix," Elizabeth said with a laugh. "Make it six o'clock and make sure you bring Miles with you. Since you two are collaborating on this case, I'd rather have you both in my office together so I don't have to go over all of this again at a later date with Miles."

"I will and thank you, Elizabeth, for the confirmation and the tidbit. Take care."

"You, too."

I clicked the "talk" button once again and the connection faded. I sighed as I flipped the phone closed and put it in my pocket, my face troubled and concerned. I waved off Miles' attempt to speak to me and he nodded once to show that he understood that I needed some space to think for awhile and walked back over to where dean Carson was standing.

I turned back to the window, my fingertips resting lightly on the sill, going over all the information that Elizabeth Partridge had given me. I found myself wishing that the elderly male victim, whoever he had been, could have had an easier death than the one he'd had; odd as it may seem to an outsider, to one who deals with this on a regular basis, such as myself and Miles, you can't help but develop a certain empathy-most of the time-with the victim in wishing that their demise could have been a _much_ gentler one.

_You'd think that people would treat each other better than we do, but we don't. Wild animals treat their prey better than human beings treat each other... and we're supposed to be the ones with superior brains. _I looked down at the sill for some time before I lifted my head again. _It really makes you wonder, doesn't it?_

Little did I know then that, when I finally got the answers to all of my questions, seven more people would be dead and Cromwell's ugly past would be spread out for the world to see.


	5. Chapter 4: Confrontation

_A/N: I do not own Phoenix Wright or Miles Edgeworth; CAPCOM does. The plot, Michael Carson, Drs. Trudy Hanson, Delia MacIntosh, Martin O'Braydon and Stephen Hoyme-Smith are mine. :^) [Edit: February 5, 2011: _This is the now revised version which is also posted to dA.]  
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_An ugly confrontation sets the stage for murder and mayhem to follow..._  
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Chapter 4! :^) It _didn't_ go _quite_ the way I had expected but I think it worked out well, just the same. It's a 'bridge chapter' and it provides a bit of a 'bridge' between this chapter and the next one to follow, setting the stage, as it were, for the events to come.

Note: I did change the name of Cromwell University's president from 'Marlyse G. Hanson' to 'Trudy G. Hanson' since there is already a character named Marlyse, the student Marlyse Cameron, so as not to create confusion. I've also changed the name where it shows up in chapter 1.

Thank you to all of my readers and who have favourited, read, reviewed, favourite authored/favourite storied/favourite author/author alert and/or story alerted my various fics over the past two years! I hope that my writing has improved over time and I hope that you will continue to enjoy my stories in future! I couldn't do it without you all and I am very grateful to each and every one of you! I can't thank you all enough!

Thank you to my beta, Midnight-hunter! Looking forward to receiving your critique and I hope that you kick your cold to the curb soon! :^)

A very **EXTRA-EXTRA-EXTRA** special Thank you to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all of your help, suggestions, advice, nagging [when necessary!], for your belief in me, for providing support during the writing process so I won't tear my hair out, for lighting the fire to inferno levels within me to write again and for the love you have so generously given me! I am the luckiest woman in the world to have you and I am grateful every day for you! I love you with all of my heart and thank you for all of your help! They are _definitely_ appreciated and _enthusiastically_ welcomed! :^)

**Thank you** to Stranger-danger for your wonderful and insightful commentary! I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me what you like about the story and your other comments along the way are very entertaining as well as enlightening! :) [By the way, the documentary was wrong: witches at Salem in 1692 were _not_ burned, they _were_ hung and one, Giles Cory, was pressed to death for refusing to enter a plea and standing mute.]

Rated NC-17, M, Graphic horror and violence, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_October 9th  
Cromwell University  
Hallway outside of Michael Carson's Office  
3:30 P.M._

Dr. Hanson watched impassively as James and Marlyse slowly walked out of the dean's office toward the main door, her emerald-green eyes glittering with an impotent rage, her blood-red nails digging into her palms, her clenched teeth biting down hard on her lip and drawing a small bead of blood.

She kept her fury in check by an act of pure will and nothing else; all she wanted to do was yell and scream her rage to the heavens and fire that fool Michael Carson _immediately_ but she knew that, if she did without sufficient reason, it would raise _too_ many questions. _That_ was the last thing she wanted: to bring unnecessary attention to herself, especially _now_.

She _knew_ why the two students had been called to the dean's office and she was outraged that he had taken it upon himself to ask for outside help when _she_ should have been consulted _first_ as to the course of action to follow according to university protocols.

She was _also_ upset because she didn't want outsiders sticking their noses into where they didn't belong; _this_ was university business and the dean should have asked for assistance from the university's campus police instead of calling in that foppish prosecutor and his equally irritating partner, that damnably affable defence attorney. She assumed that the dean knew one or both of them since he had felt comfortable addressing them both familiarly-as she had heard by listening at the closed door-and wished again that he hadn't have called them in.

She knew who they were as well; who in L.A. _didn't_? The papers were crammed full of stories about the dream team of that damned prosecutor and his lover who seemed to lead a most charmed existence in the legal world; page after page documented their many successes while giving just a footnote to a handful of failures or cases they couldn't solve.

She sighed as she leaned against the doorjamb to her office, her index finger tapping against the inside of her arm, her eyes narrowing as she watched the two students walk down the hall, her eyes flickering over to the closed door to the dean's office, wondering what they were discussing.

She wished that her partner had been much more careful than he had been but there was really nothing that they could do about it now. The dean had called in outside help and now they, and the university as a whole, would have to be the ones to deal with the fallout of whatever evidence the two uncovered as their investigation progressed.

She dug her nails deeper into her palm, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through her hand, doing her level best not to grind her teeth together. _Damn them for their interference and damn Carson for calling in outside help! We_ could _have dealt with this on our own; we certainly don't_ need _outsiders poking their noses into university business which_ isn't _any concern of theirs in the first place!_

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot; such a display was beneath her and she struggled to get her temper under conscious control. Having a temper tantrum in the middle of the hallway would not be a good idea and giving someone a reason to hold something against her at this time wouldn't be a good thing, either.

She had put in for tenure a year ago and now it was scheduled to come up at the next Board of Directors meeting for review next week. She hoped that it would be successful since her livelihood and position depended on it.

She'd been getting some strong signals from some of the other members that indicated to her that her job was in jeopardy and this worried her a great deal. Rumor had it that some members on the Board of Directors _weren't_ looking at her in a favorable light. She'd been advised that there had been some complaints about her forwarded to the tenure committee and that they were looking at them very seriously in light of her request.

Her lip curled; she had an idea that she knew _which_ people had made the complaints and she resolved to take care of _them_ once she had tenure. She had great plans for Cromwell University but it all hinged on her request being successful and, although there were rumors about her request being denied, there really wasn't _any_ reason that she could think of _why_ that would be the ultimate outcome.

After all, she'd been here for some fifteen years now and, under her leadership, Cromwell University had gone from a backwater teaching college as it had been in the early days into one of the best universities in the greater Los Angeles area, with a student population of 200,000 and a graduation rate of ninety-five percent. Not only that, but it was mainly under her influence that donors and the alumni associations were firmly in her corner, her fundraisers for Cromwell were among the most sought-after events of any given month with tickets selling out the first day they went on the market for upcoming events.

She knew which people to go to when she needed to raise some money for programs, student trips abroad for either studying purposes or exchange student programs, repairs and other things connected with the university and Cromwell's many generous benefactors would gladly open their pocketbooks if she asked them to. They had never failed her and she had repaid this trust many times over by bringing Cromwell into the world's limelight which had increased their enrollment rate by fifteen percent. Not a bad increase, she thought, and it was all due to her hard work, dedication and determination to make sure that Cromwell succeeded.

Still, that incident three years earlier had some of the older members of the Board nervous and she supposed that she couldn't really blame them for that although she wished that they would trust her judgment a little. In fairness, the drunken, belligerent homeless man who had shown up on the Main Quad's lawn during the fundraiser for Cromwell's basketball teams had presented a problem and she had him escorted off the premises _immediately_ by the university's security members.

She wished that would have been the beginning and end of it but, unfortunately, he hadn't gone quietly; he had kicked, screamed and cursed everyone in the vicinity as he was forcibly dragged away which, to her dismay, had proved to be quite an embarrassment for her as the story was picked up by the media both at the event itself _and_ electronically. Her enemies had had a field day with the story and they were always quick to bring that up as a mark on her otherwise perfect record.

The rage she felt passed and she relaxed her hand, her fingers falling open to reveal bloody, half-moon welts in her palm from where her nails had dug in. The slight pain brought her firmly back to reality; while she had to admit that she _could_ have handled the situation better than she had, her enemies had never ceased to cite this incident which had made it's way into all the major newspapers in L.A. and worldwide. It had stuck in her craw ever since.

She nibbled on the tip of her thumbnail, her eyes narrowing once more, inwardly urging herself to calm. She knew that most of her colleagues were waiting for her to fail and she could feel their eagle eyes on her whenever she held meetings to discuss various ways of bringing in new donors and sponsors for the varsity teams, the next idea for fund-raising for the next student exchange or study abroad program or any of the three dozen other things that came up annually.

She had been prepared to pass it off as simply a batch of disgruntled colleagues' jealousy but the rumblings that were getting back to her were starting to bother her a great deal and she couldn't just shrug them off as something of no consequence.

She remembered the meeting she'd had with the Senior Executive of the Board of Directors, Dr. Martin O'Braydon, and he'd put her on her guard immediately by telling her that he was disturbed by _certain_ things he'd been hearing about her and her leadership and that the rest of the executives were quite concerned about the possible negative effects it could have on the school directly.

She _wasn't_ surprised although why the Board Of Directors had selected _this_ fool to confront her was beyond her. He didn't have any business sense to speak of so it was a surprise to her that he was even on the Board in any capacity at all. She just wished that they would stop bringing up the incident three years ago although she was well aware of _who_ kept doing it and _why_.

She'd explained, more than once, her positions on the various issues facing Cromwell and had done her best to lay their concerns to rest but it didn't seem to be having any effect that she could see. They kept bringing up the same old, worn out arguments that she'd long since tired of hearing ad infinitum just to rub her nose in it and spite her, particularly Delia MacIntosh, the crusty seventy-five year old Professor of Classical Greek Studies.

Dr. Hanson snorted. The woman had had it in for her right from the very beginning and Delia hadn't bothered to disguise her _very_ real animosity toward her. Unfortunately, she had one of the deciding votes for tenure and she'd had to swallow her pride and at least show some degree of warmth toward her but it had been difficult and it hadn't really worked all that well since Delia had received her coldly and their meeting went downhill from there.

She wished that she could have planted her fist right in Delia's ugly face but she'd tamped down her anger and plastered a false smile on her face which she was pretty sure that the elderly woman could see through; it wasn't a secret that she detested her and Delia returned her scorn measure for measure.

Dr. Hanson had tried to reason with her, to ask her to put aside their personal animosity for the good of the university but it was a useless venture in the end for Delia remained strongly opposed to her both personally as President and against her receiving tenure; in Dr. MacIntosh's opinion, if she received tenure, it would be detrimental to both Cromwell University as a whole and the school's reputation in general.

Dr. Hanson had seen red at this haughty suggestion and had fired back one or two barbs of her own which, she was sure, would make the elderly Professor angry and she wasn't disappointed in that certainty. Delia was furious with her and she would, she declared, glaring at Dr. Hanson through glittering silver eyes while the other woman struggled to keep her composure, say as much to the Board of Directors and would strongly recommend that her request for tenure be unilaterally denied and dismissed.

Dr. MacIntosh had stormed off after this last parting shot, leaving Dr. Hanson shaking with suppressed rage and anger, watching her storm out of the building's entrance door. Damn the impertinence of that bloody woman! Delia hadn't been responsible for Cromwell's eventual emergence into the spotlight; that had been _her_ doing and she would be damned if she let that dried out old harpy take the credit for _her_ hard work!

She felt her lip curl again as she recalled the storm between herself and Dr. MacIntosh and vowed that she would get even with her someday; the sooner _that_ happened, the better!

She started momentarily at the footsteps coming toward her on the black-and-white checkered tile floor; for a brief moment, she thought that Dr. MacIntosh had returned for another verbal sparring round and began to prepare herself mentally for the return bout but, to her surprise and pleasure, it was only one of her colleagues, Dr. Stephen Hoyme-Smith.

His face lit up in a smile when he saw her standing there and made a beeline for her immediately, his hands reaching out for hers, taking them tenderly into his own. He leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek which she warmly returned, her fingers tightening around his briefly before she let go and took a step backward, her eyes shining.

"How are you, Trudy?" he asked, his rich, baritone voice tripping pleasantly over her ears, his black eyes twinkling merrily.

"Quite well, thank you, Stephen," she replied, the corners of her mouth twitching a little.

"Another run in with the old harpy, I presume?" The corner of his lip twitched, his eyes gleaming with undisguised mischief.

She nodded, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect. "Yes, unfortunately. She seems determined to block my tenure although I can't fathom the reason for her antipathy." She sighed loudly, shaking her head. "I just _don't_ understand it."

He shrugged. "Who knows? I think she's just jealous of your success, personally, Princess. I wouldn't worry about it. She's just one voice out of many and I hear the majority are on your side, _not_ hers."

"I hope you're right."

"I know I am, Princess." He winked at her and she laughed, stepping into his arms and giving him a hard kiss on the mouth, holding him close to her.

She moaned softly, her body pressing against his, rubbing gently. She could feel him start in surprise but he didn't pull away and deepened the kiss, his tongue probing her mouth with mounting passion and abandonment. Her tongue shortly joined his and they danced together, their hands roaming merrily around each others bodies.

After some time, they gently parted, their eyes smoldering.

"We shouldn't do that here, Princess." He nuzzled her neck playfully. "Someone might see us."

She laughed, her arms still wrapped around his neck, touching the tip of his nose with hers gently, her mouth splitting into a wide grin.

"Let them," she said pertly, "particularly the old harpy." She kissed him again, doing a long and thorough job of it. "I'd _love_ to see the look on her face if she caught us, the old bitch!"

"Now, now, Princess," he murmured cautiously against her mouth, his hand lifting to tumble her thick, black locks, "you _need_ to keep your temper in check for the next week or so, _especially_ around Delia. You and I both _know_ that she loathes you and will do _everything_ she can to harass and annoy you; you can't let it get to you because, if you do, _she_ wins." He kissed the top of her head tenderly. "We can't have that now, can we?"

She smiled wolfishly, nodding in agreement. "Of course we can't have that, darling, and you're right." She sighed. "I just _hate_ having to play these childish mental mind games with a bunch of anal retentive people who _still_ can't admit that I've done a better job than _they_ could in getting this university to be a successful, not to mention profitable, one."

"It is the way of people, unfortunately," Stephen replied, kissing her head again, "they just don't _want_ to admit that their tenure wasn't _half_ as successful as yours has been for the past ten years and it sticks in _their_ craws. They block you simply because it's the deadliest weapon they have against you and the only way they have at their disposal to get back at you no matter what it is you bring to the table."

She nodded, unwrapping her arms from around his neck and stepped back, thinking for a moment. "That's true and it makes a lot of sense. I was wondering why the batch of them were blocking the fundraiser I suggested last week." She made a face. "I just wish that they would hear me out before they make _their_ decisions." She crossed her arms, clutching the inside of her arm. "I really don't _care_ if they like me or not; truth be told, Stephen, I despise _all_ of them but at least _I_ give them a fair shake whenever they propose something instead of rejecting it out of hand like _they_ do."

"That's to _your_ advantage, Princess, and the reason _why_ you have so many supporters among the donors and benefactors." He looked at her seriously. "Don't forget that you do _have_ friends in those quarters, and _very_ powerful ones, at that. Don't do anything to jeopardize that no matter how much the old guard tries to get under your skin."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"You're right, Stephen, and thank you for the reminder. It's just difficult when I have to go over the same old tired arguments over and over and the old guard just refuses to accept that they're wrong. They try to make my job difficult and they succeed admirably in the attempt, I may add."

"I have no doubt of it. Delia's the worst of them and _she's_ the one with the deciding vote."

She sighed. "Unfortunately true. And I _quite_ agree with _that_ assessment, Stephen, believe me." She tapped her index finger against her cinnamon-lipsticked mouth thoughtfully. "If there was only _some_ way that I could convince _her_ to take _my_ side, that I _really_ do have the university's best interests at heart..."

"I wish you luck with that endeavor, Trude," Stephen replied, his tone heavy with warning. "From what I hear, she's determined to make sure that your bid for tenure _fails_." He looked at her seriously. "_What_ exactly did you do to the old crow to make her hate you like she does?"

She shook her head, spreading her hands. "I honestly have no idea although I suspect that the Board backing me instead of her on an issue twelve years ago was the catalyst and perhaps jealousy as well since my time as President has been much more successful than any of her thirty were previously. At least, that's what I think; other than that, I really have _no_ idea why. You'd think she took the Board's decision to back me as reflecting on _her_ personally."

He nodded. "It appears to be exactly that, I do agree with you there." He stepped toward her, lifting his right hand and letting his index finger trail lazily down her cheek while she smiled and cooed quietly. "Then again, who knows how the Old Guard thinks? I often wonder sometimes if they really know themselves; maybe it's just a ploy to keep the younger members in their place until they feel that the younger generation has earned it."

She bit her lip. "You may have a point. It's certainly the most logical reason I can think of; then again, maybe that's half the problem right there. They don't like younger people with ideas in general and are hidebound to any kind of change even when it proves to be beneficial not only to the university but to them, a kind of reflected glory, if you will, for allowing the ones with ideas free reign to do as they please."

The rapid click-clacking of heels on the linoleum floor warned the two that they had company coming and both turned to see Dr. Delia MacIntosh practically flying down the hallway toward them, her face set in a grim mask.

"Speak of the devil," Stephen murmured and Dr. Hanson had to make an effort to suppress a giggle at the look on his face, "she's coming _this_ way, I believe."

Dr. Hanson cast a lazy glance at the rapidly approaching figure before turning her gaze back to her companion. "So she is. I wonder what she wants this time?"

"Probably your proverbial head on a platter like Herodias," Stephen murmured back, rolling his eyes for comedic effect, "better hope she _isn't_ carrying _anything_ sharp, darling."

"Unlike her tongue," Dr. Hanson quipped back, grinning evilly as her companion's face split into a wide grin and a muffled chuckle escaped his lips despite his best efforts to suppress it. Neither were lost on the good doctor who had just joined them.

"And what, exactly, do you find _so_ amusing, Dr. Hoyme-Smith?" the nasally, grating and thoroughly unpleasant voice of Dr. Delia MacIntosh asked sourly, her silver eyes sparking with hidden jealousy and resentment as she came to a screeching halt in front of them.

She was only seventy-five but she looked much older, a wreath of wrinkles covering her pinched face and a perpetually sour look plastered on her lips.

He didn't blink an eyelash.

"It's _you_, Delia," he said simply, an innocent expression on his face while Trudy had a hard time trying to keep from bursting into laughter behind the older woman's back. "Didn't you know? _I've_ fallen _quite_ deeply in love with _you_..."

Delia glared at him through narrowed eyes, her bright red lipsticked mouth thinning into an angry, crimson slash, her gnarled hands clenching into fists. She reminded Trudy of a hovering vulture and the mental image that conjured up nearly made her lose her composure but she managed to stifle the burst of laughter that threatened to burst from her. Delia was in high comedic form when she was angry; what would the crusty old harpy feel if she knew that the majority of her colleagues were laughing at her behind her back? Trudy wished she could find out.

"There's _no_ need to be sarcastic, _Stephen_," she retorted acidly, giving him the gimlet eye which he cheerfully ignored, "and I really _don't_ appreciate _anyone_ making fun of _me_, either."

He shrugged, an innocent look plastered all over his face. "I wouldn't dream of it, Delia."

"I'm sure _you_ wouldn't." Her narrowed eyes flickered over to Trudy and Stephen thought he could see the hate and jealousy in her eyes for a moment before it vanished and he couldn't help but wonder yet again _why_ she hated Dr. Hanson so much. There was something in the old woman's gaze that went _far_ deeper than just mere jealousy and personal, and professional, spite.

Trudy didn't blink when the old crow turned her venomous gaze back on her.

"Although _this_ one might." Delia gave her rival a look of triumph and Trudy felt her stomach fall in the direction of her shoes. She didn't like _that_ look and wasn't sure what to make of it since Delia was taking a savage, sadistic pleasure in it if the look on her face was anything to go by. Once again, she felt that familiar sense of doom whenever she and the "good" Dr. MacIntosh encountered each other.

Trudy had long ago learned to keep Delia MacIntosh at arm's length plus six more feet for good measure; the older woman had made _no_ secret of her deep hatred and animosity for the younger woman who had long since given up trying to please her. She sighed inwardly but put on a pleasant face for the old harpy who looked disappointed that her glare hadn't had much of an effect on either of them.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Delia," Trudy said pleasantly, her mouth quirking upward in a slightly mocking smile, "you _do_ have the most _wonderful_ imagination."

_Take_ that, _you old harpy!_ Trudy thought triumphantly as she saw the old woman's face harden. _Put_ that _in your craw!_

She saw the old woman's face crease in anger before all manner of expression was all but swept from her face.

"Hmmmph," was all Delia said in reply before turning to another topic of conversation.

"Did you know that Prosecutor Edgeworth and Defence Attorney Phoenix Wright were here to talk to two students?" she asked, flashing a nasty look in Trudy's direction, a prim smile spreading across her wrinkled face. "They seemed _quite_ interested in what those two students _had_ to say..."

"Did they?" Trudy did her best to sound aloof and was rewarded by the sharp stare that Delia gave her. "Isn't that an interesting development."

Delia gave her a sharp look, her eyebrow raising. "Didn't _you_ know?" she asked primly, the hint of a wolfish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Of course I did," Trudy replied airily, waving her hand in lazy circles in the air and doing her best to tamp down the ugly feelings that were rising in her, "didn't... _you_?"

She couldn't resist the urge to needle Delia a little. She saw Stephen give her a warning look out of the corner of his eye, one in which she cheerfully ignored, winking back at him out of Delia's line of vision; he rolled his eyes and made a face behind the older woman's back.

Obviously, Delia was well aware of the intended slight, her face flushing a dirty red as she let her hate and _very_ real anger bubble to the surface.

"_You_ would do well to keep _your_ mouth shut, missy!" Delia shouted angrily, her nails digging half-moon welts into her palms. "May _I_ remind _you_ that _I_ am the one who holds the _deciding_ vote in the question of _your_ tenure?" She leaned forward, her hands balled into fists on her hips, her face an inch away from Trudy's, her eyes sparking with anger and hate. "_I'll_ see _you_ in Hell before I _ever_ agree to give _you_ tenure!"

Trudy stared at her for a moment before her own blue eyes narrowed, her gaze granite-hard as she took a small step forward so that she was right in front of her and could look right into Delia's angry eyes, her own anger _very_ plain on her face. She threw off Stephen's restraining hand from her arm and he stepped back immediately.

"That's as may be, Delia," Trudy said coldly, venom so potent in her words that Delia looked uncertain, her eyes widening as she put her hand to her mouth, "but may _I_ remind _you_ that _you_ are _not_ the _only_ person on the Board who's vote matters and that there are, in fact, _many_ who support _me_." She looked her straight in the face. "I've done _my_ best to do right by the university and, if _you_ can't handle that, you miserable, bitchy harpy, then that's _your_ problem, not _mine_!"

"Trudy..." She could hear Stephen's low murmur of warning reach her ears but she was too angry to acknowledge it and let her _very_ real frustration and rage seep into her words. Delia stared at her, her mouth working but no sound emerged. It seemed that, for once, Delia had _nothing_ to say but the flickering expressions on her face spoke volumes.

"Furthermore," Trudy went on, her hands clenching into fists as Delia stared uncomprehendingly at her, "_I_ am the President of this school and _I_ will decide in _which_ direction to take it, not _you_!" She stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing, "_Your_ time is over; it's _mine_ now! I really don't give a tinker's damn if you like me or not but you could at least be a little more supportive in trying to make Cromwell a better school for students and faculty instead of trying to block me at every turn! It doesn't matter _what_ I try to do, _you're_ never satisfied and I am sick to death of running interference with you!"

She took another step forward, putting her heeled foot hard down on the floor, a loud clacking noise echoing throughout the silent hallway, her eyes daring the shocked Delia to open her mouth.

"I really couldn't care less if you like what I do or not and it's very clear that my time as President has been quite fruitful and successful!" She crossed her arms across her chest, giving Delia a withering look. "If that's a fact _you_ can't swallow, then tough! Again, that's _your_ problem, not _mine_!" She stopped and took another deep breath, willing herself to calm down as Stephen put his face in his hand, sighing softly and muttering something underneath his breath that she couldn't _quite_ catch. Which was all to the good; if _she_ couldn't hear what he was saying, neither could Delia."I really wish that we could at least work together for the sake of the school but _you've_ made it _very_ clear that that _isn't_ going to happen!"

She gave Delia a level look and the older woman trembled under the intensity of her stare. "You just can't stand it that I've made Cromwell the success that you always wanted to but couldn't achieve in all of your thirty years that you were President and you're going to make damned sure that I, or anyone else like me with youth, ideas and drive, will be blocked as many times as necessary by you and all those other dried up old fools in the old guard until we either give up or resign."

She looked hard into Delia's face. "Well, let _me_ tell _you_ something, Delia: I'm _not_ going away, I'm _not_ going to resign and I sure as hell am _not_ going to debase _myself_ so that the lot of _you_ will be happy! I _will_ do what I think is right for both Cromwell and its students and faculty and, if _you_ can't accept that fact, that is not _my_ concern. I've tried working with _you_ but you absolutely refuse to work with _me_! Well, _that's_ at an end for good, as of this moment. I'll continue to do as I please and I don't give a damn if you or others like you make peace with it or not!"

Trudy was shaking with emotion by the time she fired the last parting shot at Delia, who stood there still as a statue for some time, her mouth working furiously, hissing sounds of displeasure flowing out of her tightly compressed lips. Stephen stood by, shuffling his feet nervously, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, looking _very_ uncomfortable to be the unwitting man in the middle between two warring females.

The tension in the room was so thick that you could have cut it with a knife and the two combatants stared at each other with glowering hate, their eyes shooting sparks. The masks of thinly veiled politeness were torn off as each woman let the other know just _how_ much they hated one another.

After some time of this mostly silent battle of wills, Delia dropped her eyes first, her teeth clenched together between tightly compressed lips, set in a grim parody of a smile.

"You _may_ have won this round, Trudy," she said quietly, her voice thickly layered with a palpable layer of menace, "but _you_ have yet to win the war." She looked at the younger woman again, her eyes glinting with a disconcerting, mindless glee. "And I, in the end, hold the trump card." Her voice lowered into a serpentine hiss. "_You_ would do well to remember _that_!"

Trudy held her tongue as Delia whirled around and stomped off toward the entrance, slammed through the door in a huff, the door bouncing off the opposite wall before it slammed shut with a loud banging noise that echoed through the silent halls.

"_That_ was a _very_ foolish thing to do, Trudy," Stephen said quietly after Delia had left the building, reproach thick in his voice as he turned to face her.

Trudy nodded. "Perhaps but the old harpy deserved it." A crooked grin tugged at the right hand side of her mouth. "I've been wanting to tell her off for years and it really _does_ feel good to have told her _exactly_ what I think of her at last."

Stephen gave her a look, shaking his head disgustedly. "Still, it wasn't a _very_ smart thing to do and you know it. And she _is_ right about one thing: she _does_ hold the trump card, whether _you_ want to admit it or not."

_All_ vestiges of triumph were wiped from Trudy's face at Stephen's words and the realization that she may very well have sunk her own chances at tenure by openly challenging the one who, ultimately, held the deciding vote.

She began to wonder if Delia hadn't deliberately started a fight with her so that she would lose her temper and her face drained, leaving her skin a pasty white, dirty red blotches peppering her cheeks.

_I wouldn't put it past her to do exactly_ that!

She may very well have played right into the old bitch's hands by her explosion and she, like a foolish schoolgirl, took the bait in extraordinarily easy fashion.

"I see you realize now the position you've put yourself in, my impetuous and very foolish Princess," Stephen said with a sigh at her silence, his hand touching her arm gently, "and, I hope for your sake, that you _haven't_ burned any valuable bridges behind you that you will need in the coming week." He shook his head again. "You've made an implacable enemy, my dear, and I only hope that your words won't come back to bite you in the future."

Trudy nodded, her fingers drifting to the back of her neck and massaging the tight muscle she could feel hard as a rock.

"God, I'm such a fool, Stephen," she said softly, closing her eyes and not resisting as Stephen drew her to him, cradling her head against his chest, "I played right into her hands with that little display that I have no doubt she will be putting to good use next week." She kicked the floor. "Damn it! I played right into _her_ hands like a damned fool!"

"I won't deny that, darling," he murmured, stroking her head softly, "and now you've got to find a way to minimize the damage and fast since I have no doubt that Delia will be sharpening her swords and planting them right in your back along with anyone else who will listen to her." he kissed the top of her head gently. "I don't envy you your task, Princess..."

She smiled wryly. "Nor I, dearest," she replied sheepishly, leaning against him and closing her eyes. "It seems that I have a lot of work to do in the meantime to minimize the PR damage before the meeting next week." She sighed loudly. "And I promise to try and keep my temper cool next time."

He looked at her, his expression serious. "Promise?"

"Promise."

He smiled at her, chuckling softly. "Good girl."

They stood together for a few moments before parting, promising to get in touch later and waving as Stephen disappeared through the door, Trudy watching him until he was lost to sight. She sighed with feeling before she turned and slowly made her way to her office, conflicting thoughts racing through her mind. Yes, she _had_ a lot of work to do before next week and she hoped that she could minimize the damage she'd done to her position by her fight with Delia.

Her hand had just wrapped around the door knob when a rich, baritone voice behind her made her turn around to see two men standing behind her, one in a blue suit and the other in a magenta suit with ruffled cravat.

"Yes?" she said rather testily, her eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

The taller of the two men spoke, his voice humorless.

"My name is Miles Edgeworth," he said primly, "and this-" he pointed to the second man standing quietly next to him- "is my partner, Phoenix Wright."

Her eyes widened as she realized just _who_ it was she was looking at. That damnable defence attorney and that foppish prosecutor that Michael Carson had called in to investigate the burnt body in Nathaniel Park.

"Yes?" she managed to get out. "What can I do for you, Mr. Edgeworth?" She looked at her watch. "I'm a _very_ busy woman, as I'm sure that you can understand, and I have a lot of work to do today so please state your business and then leave."

Miles nodded.

"Thank you, Ms.-?"

"Dr. Hanson," Trudy replied crisply, extending her hand that Phoenix took and shook heartily, Miles bowing his head slightly in respect, "Dr. Trudy G. Hanson. I'm the President of Cromwell University. How may I help you?"

"We have some questions that we'd like to ask you, Dr. Hanson, about the remains of the burnt body that were found in Nathaniel Park two days ago. We talked to the two students who found the remains and now we would like to talk to you in order to clear some things up for our investigation."

Trudy felt her blood run cold but she answered pleasantly enough.

"I see." She lapsed into silence for a few moments, thinking of her options. While she certainly _didn't_ want these two putting their noses into university business that didn't concern them, at the same time she really had no reason _not_ to talk to them, specifically because it was only the opening of the investigation. She didn't have anything to hide but she still worried about the effect it would have on fund-raising if news of this investigation somehow managed to get out.

She had everything to lose and nothing to gain if she refused them access and she dreaded the response the Board of Directors; given the small but very prominent majority that didn't like her, she'd be playing right into their hands and she could all but see her tenure evaporating in the coming media firestorm.

She sighed inwardly. She hated _not_ having a choice but, as far as she could see, there really _wasn't_ any other viable option, _except_ to talk to them, that she had open to her right now. Either that or a three-way circus with herself and Cromwell University stuck right in the middle and that was the very last thing that she wanted.

She felt her fingers twitching but she resisted the urge to ball them into a fist. Such a display couldn't help her in the long run and she knew that she would have to face this situation squarely, as indeed she-and others-expected her to. It was part of her job, after all.

_Damn Michael Carson to the lowest of the nine Hells for his damned interference! If only he hadn't called these two in, we could have settled it ourselves quite well on our own!_ Why _on earth did he call them in the first place? I told him_ not _to!_

"Dr. Hanson?" Phoenix said gently, not wishing to startle her unnecessarily as he could see that she was deep in thought.

She snapped back to reality in an instant, her emerald-green eyes locking immediately onto his.

"Yes, Mr. Wright?"

"Could we step into your office and ask you some questions about the burned body that was found here in Nathaniel Park? We really hate to bother you but your co-operating in this manner will make the process much easier and the investigation to go much more smoothly." He tilted his head and looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

There was no malice or hidden agendas here with this one, she noted, but she wasn't so sure about his partner, who stood there still as a statue, the shuttered and completely expressionless face seemingly to be chiseled out of granite, his dark grey eyes and similar hair giving him an intimidating presence of someone far beyond his years.

_I doubt that_, she thought to herself but answered pleasantly enough, "I agree, Mr. Wright." She half turned and grasped the doorknob firmly, twisting it with a quick motion of her hand and pushing it open.

She turned back to them and spread out her arm, quipping, "Shall we go in?" Her emerald-green eyes flashed with mischief, a wolfish grin slowly spreading over her face that gave her a rather feral look. "Unless you're afraid _I'll_ eat you."

Mr. Wright grinned but she noted that Prosecutor Edgeworth did _not_, his steely grey eyes watching her with intense interest. She did her best to hide her discomfort as she watched them walk into her office, Mr. Edgeworth's eyes never once leaving her, his brows furrowed slightly.

One thing was now crystal clear and that was that she would have to be _very_ careful in future. They _both_ would.


	6. Chapter 5: Welcome To My Parlor

_A/N: Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright don't belong to me; they belong to CAPCOM. Drs. Hanson, MacIntosh and Hoyme-Smith and the plot belong to me. _  
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_Miles and Phoenix are now talking to the Cromwell University's president, Dr. Trudy Hanson, but she's being less than forthcoming and is trying to stop the investigation before it starts. Will Miles succeed in getting past that steely exterior or will they be forced to stop the investigation all together? And what of Dr. Hoyme-Smith? What connection does he have to Dr. Hanson?_  
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Chapter 5! Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up! Busy, busy, busy! A case of: Too_ many_ fics, too _little_ time. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this long overdue chapter! [I'll probably make some corrections to it at some point in the next few days; always room for improvement!]

Dr. Hanson is quite a tough nut to crack, isn't she? She's making it quite plain that she resents their intrusion although it doesn't look like she has much of a choice but to cooperate, no matter how unwillingly. I can see Miles getting frustrated and nearly losing it at one point but that icy calm and self control will come back and he'll continue the line of questioning... whether she likes it or not. Hopefully, I have Dr. Hanson's reactions down properly.  
It may seem at some points in the story that Phoenix is daydreaming but he's_ not._ What he's actually doing is taking in information and digesting it, thinking about what he's hearing and turning it over in his mind, looking at it from different angles. Miles does the talking; Phoenix does the thinking and analyzing and will share his thoughts with Miles later on when they will discuss the case in depth later on.

_**Thank you **to all my readers: those who have commented, read, reviewed, favourited/story alerted my stories and thanks also to those who have author alerted/favourite authored, as well! I appreciate it very much! I am glad that you are enjoying my stories and I hope that you will continue to enjoy them in the future! :) Also, thank you to the anonymous reviewer who said I'd posted chapter 4 for chapter 5. I had done just that and I also discovered that I had mislabeled and uploaded the wrong chapter so thank you _very_ much for the heads up!  
_

_**Special thanks** to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all his encouragement, love, concern and for reigniting the fire within me to write! Love you, honey, and thanks!_

_As always, reviews, comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated! I aim to improve my writing and comments do help me to do just that: by letting me know what you like, what you don't and what needs improvement. :)_

Rated M, Graphic Horror & violence, male/male relationships, Phoenix x Edgeworth

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_October 9th  
Office of the University President, Dr. Trudy Hanson  
Cromwell University  
3:45 P.M._

"_Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly_," Miles quipped as we followed Dr. Hanson into her office, his mouth quirking at the corners. I tried to stifle a giggle but I wasn't fully successful doing so; I could see Dr. Hanson flashing him an angry look which she did her best to hide-I assumed that she wasn't at all happy with his less than flattering comment-although she did roll her eyes behind his back as she shut the door, walking quickly over to her desk and sitting down. I noticed, with interest that, although her face seemed to be perfectly composed on the outside, the tell-tale twitching of the corners of her mouth made it _very_ clear that all was _not_well on the inside.

_Interesting. The perfectly, at least outwardly, composed university president is feeling some pressure given her reaction just now._ I shifted in my seat slightly, my eyes watching her lazily from beneath hooded lids. I didn't want her to know in which direction my thoughts were going. _I wonder what other secrets she's refusing to divulge since it's_ very _plain that she's hiding something. Could the incident with the homeless man at the Main Quad be the reason? She dealt with him before, even if it was to have him forcefully escorted off the premises during an event of some kind at the university._

She folded her hands over one another in front of her on her desk and said primly, "Now, gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

The expression on her face was one of cool neutrality but, underneath, I could sense the seething, roiling emotions that were flickering across her face although she was doing her level best to hide it. I knew that she wasn't happy with our being here, that much was plain to see, but as we, and Dr. Hanson, well knew, it would be in her best interests to talk to us whether she liked it or not.

Depending on what our investigation eventually uncovered, her cooperation would be a mark on the plus side and to her benefit, even if it didn't feel that way at the present. To deliberately hide, or not mention, anything to us during our investigation would be detrimental to both her personally and the university as a whole.

_I'm sure she is well aware of the implications. Maybe that's why she's so angry with us._

"I understand that two students found what remained of a burnt body here on university grounds," Miles began, templing his fingers together, giving her a level look, "and that _you_, for some inexplicable reason, had recommended that the authorities not be contacted. Is this correct?"

She returned the look, measure for measure. "Yes," she said stiffly, her back ramrod straight, the look in her silver eyes daring him to challenge her. "It is."

"Why?" Miles leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, his mouth turned down at the corners. "You _should_ know that contacting the authorities is the first thing you should do if something like this happens on the university grounds; any crime, no matter _what_it is, should be reported to the proper authorities."

She gave him a hard stare. "In _your_ line of work, perhaps, Mr. Edgeworth, but that is _not_ the case in _mine_." Her fingers were twisted together and I likened them to a writhing nest of snakes since they were twitching incessantly, linking and unlinking and twisting around each other and I couldn't help but wonder what she was so nervous about. All we wanted to do was talk to her. "_I_ am the first and final authority on this campus and _I_will do what I think best for the students and the university as a whole."

"And you would consider the covering up of a crime to be '_what you think best_'?" Miles countered, letting his very real scorn flow over into his words, her cheeks flushing a dirty red at the biting tone in his voice. "One would think that you were deliberately trying to sweep the whole mess under the carpet, to find some way to cover your tracks and make sure that this _never_saw the light of day."

The barb hit home and hit hard, judging by the dark look that she directed at Miles. It reminded me of the old adage, _If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead on the spot_, the look on her face bringing it forcefully to mind.

_This could get interesting in a real hurry_, I thought as I watched the warring expressions flicker across her face, Miles' cold stare never quailing for a moment. _She's got her hands full with him and I think that she knows it, even if she's not fully aware of it at this point. He's_ not _going to let her worm her way out of this one, no matter how charming she may be._

She was being directly challenged, and she knew it. While she _might_ have been able to wiggle out of it with some amount of grace with other university officials, Miles refused to give her even that small opening. He _would_, as I well knew, aggressively pursue the matter from beginning to end; he would also call her out on her questionable decision to not contact the authorities and he would accept no excuses and would pry the blunt truth out of her by whatever means he thought to be necessary.

Truth be known, I felt a little sorry for her since I knew that once Miles got the bit in his teeth, he was as tenacious as a bulldog and refused to give up until the investigation was complete. He didn't care for niceties and wouldn't let anyone's rank or position hinder him in his search for the truth; the prospect of stepping on some _very_ powerful toes didn't bother him in the slightest. Truth was truth to Miles and that was what he would do: uncover the truth, no matter how ugly it might ultimately prove to be. Given the expression on Dr. Hanson's face, I _knew_ that she wasn't happy with Miles' scorn nor his direct challenge to _her_ authority on _her_turf.

_He's got guts, I'll give him that. I just hope that we don't end up regretting it. It doesn't look like we're going to get much help in this area; she'll do what she can to stymie us every step of the way._

I guess I couldn't really blame her for feeling the way she did but we had a job to do and we needed to get on it as soon as possible. The remains of the murdered man _had_been found on university property and, as we had been commissioned by the dean, Michael Carson, to investigate this matter, we needed to start it as soon as we could. We couldn't afford to waste time if we were to get to the bottom of this gruesome mystery.

I glanced at Miles out of the corner of my eye, shivering slightly when I saw the chilly look in his dark grey eyes fixed firmly on Dr. Hanson who returned his stare, _and_dislike, measure for measure. My eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, the tension between them so thick that you could have cut it with a knife. Her silver eyes directly challenged him, their postures aggressive and unbending as they continued to stare at each other; they reminded me of two snarling dogs fighting over a juicy bone, circling each other, fangs bared, menacing growls emerging from their throats.

_She's_ not _going to be an easy nut to crack_, I thought to myself, biting my lower lip, _and, by the look of __things, she's not going to make our investigation easy nor is she planning on being any more helpful than she needs to, either._ I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, boxing my hand under my chin. _She sees us as interfering with something that is in_ her _jurisdiction, not ours; I'm sure that she would have been far happier if dean Carson hadn't called us in at all._ With a grimace I shifted again, getting an angry glare from both Miles and Dr. Hanson, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment as I sank down in the chair, trying to make myself as small a target as possible; with luck, neither of the combatants would notice me. _Why do I get the feeling that, if we weren't here, that the event would be swept under the rug and left there?_

I _didn't_ like the feeling that I was getting and, the longer that the standoff continued between Miles and Dr. Hanson, the less comfortable I felt and the less I liked it. I knew that he was picking up on the unspoken hints that hung in the air-a quick look at him confirmed my suspicions when I saw the cool, impenetrable look on his face-and, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out _why_she was being so recalcitrant about the whole thing.

In one sense, I _could_ understand why she wasn't overly happy about the situation-hell, I _wouldn't_ be thrilled if what remained of a burnt body showed up on _our_property and some outside organization tried to nose its way in!-but why did I keep getting the sinking feeling that she would have been more than happy to cover this up and let it go at that?

_Something isn't right here... and I'm not really sure exactly what it is that's bothering me about the good Dr. Hanson._ I nibbled the tip of my fingernail distractedly, my brows furrowing. _Maybe it's her driving ambition or the fact that she basically hates us, not to mention dean Carson, for calling us in on this case. I wonder..._

"Mr. Wright," an irritated female voice cut in impatiently and I was jolted back firmly into reality to see two pairs of angry eyes directing daggers in my direction, "we're having a discussion here and I would really appreciate it if you could at least pretend that you are paying attention!" Dr. Hanson's eyes narrowed and I gulped at the ugly glare she was giving me, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "At least your oafish partner is paying attention even if he's questioning me in the rudest manner possible!"

Her eyes flickered over to Miles briefly before returning back to me and I trembled slightly, feeling like a mouse that's just been cornered by a cat and watched helplessly as it comes closer, readying itself for the kill.

_Let's just hope that this isn't the way this investigation ends!_ I pulled at my shirt collar since it felt a little tight, noting Dr. Hanson's satisfaction sweep across her face before it vanished completely, leaving behind a neutral expression. _I really have a bad feeling about this and Dr. Hanson, in particular. There's just something about this woman that feels..._ off, _for lack of a better word, and I really don't know_why!

Turning my interest back to Miles and very grateful to have that penetrating stare on someone else instead of myself for once, I saw the corners of his mouth twitch at her pronouncement but whether it was in embarrassment, amusement or anger I wasn't certain. He could hold his own in a fight and it must have been _very_ galling to Dr. Hanson personally that she _couldn't_ crack that steely interior; she _wasn't_used to people challenging her directly and it was something that she didn't like to have happen.

We knew about the ten year cat fight she'd been having with Dr. Delia MacIntosh-dean Carson had filled us in on this aspect when we talked to him earlier-and I couldn't help but wonder exactly what had started the bad blood between the two women.

_This is something that we should definitely explore, I think. It may mean nothing but you never know. I'll make sure to mention it to Miles after our meeting with Dr. Partridge this afternoon._

I forced my wandering thoughts back to the matter now at hand. Dr. Hanson _didn't_ seem to be very well-liked by many at Cromwell, either-and I knew that Michael Carson positively _loathed_her-and I also wondered why this was the case. Perhaps the older members of the Board of Directors didn't like the younger woman's aggressiveness nor her overwhelming popularity with the younger members of the university proper.

Older members _aren't_ always happy at the success of the younger group I reminded myself, and, by all accounts, Dr. Hanson's tenure _had_ been _very_successful; surely, there would be resentments there among the older members which is something that I would reasonably suspect to happen and it appeared that that was exactly what had happened in this case.

My brow furrowed slightly, my thoughts coming in on me like a rush while I half-listened to the cacophony of noise in the background as Dr. Hanson battled it out with Miles with sniping, counter-sniping and sarcastic invective filling the room. Dr. MacIntosh _didn't_strike me as the kind of person who would take what she considered to be advice, or lip, from anyone. Period. From what I had heard-and, granted, it wasn't much-she appeared to be your quintessential harpy from the old school who was absolutely, and fastidiously, entrenched in her ways and wouldn't budge from her position once her mind was made up on something.

_Or someone. Dr. MacIntosh doesn't seem like the_ 'forgive and forget' _type, either, which brings up the question: Why do she and Dr. Hanson hate each other so much? I wish we had some firm evidence as to the reason. It_ has _to be more than simply a case of professional spite._

I shifted slightly when I felt my leg start to cramp which earned me another black look from the two combatants when Dr. Hanson stopped shouting at Miles long enough to glare at me. When I had looked up, my index finger crooked underneath my chin, I was first startled, and then embarrassed, to see two pairs of hooded, angry eyes staring straight at me.

I'd swallowed hard, smiled a sickly smile and blushed scarlet before mumbling an apology and then did my level best to sit still, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing in my lower leg. Dr. Hanson took a deep breath and then started arguing with Miles again, taking up where they had left off until the arguing, at least on her part, became even more heated than it had been previously; I was surprised that no one had come over to Dr. Hanson's office to see what was going on since I was pretty certain that her raised voice could be heard all the way through the building.

After the noise had reached a crescendo, she stopped, breathing hard and promptly shut her mouth, taking in gulping, deep breaths as she fought to calm herself. I had been surprised to see Miles lose his temper briefly before he regained control of himself earlier on in the fight.

_I wonder if this case is getting to him a bit... If it is, I can't really blame him. Dr. Hanson is a slippery, emotionally roiling handful that doesn't take_ too _kindly to people stepping on her feet on her own turf and protects her own power and authority like a mother bear protects her cubs._ I lifted my eyes slightly to look at her angry countenance before quickly looking back down at the floor. _She's made no __secret that she doesn't want to cooperate in out investigation and is only doing so because she has no other choice in the matter. It isn't likely to endear us to her and, as she's already proved, she thinks we're an annoying nuisance at best, interfering interlopers at worst._ I sighed. _That isn't going to make our investigation easy, that's for sure. I just hope it doesn't become a millstone around our necks in the long run._

"What are you doing here?" I heard a demanding male voice ask a few moments later; startled, I jerked my head up to see another well dressed man standing in the doorway, his body stiffly erect, his black eyes flashing. "Who are you? Why are you bothering Dr. Hanson?"

Miles and Dr. Hanson both looked over to the door with surprised expressions; neither of them were expecting to see anyone else there and it had come as a genuine surprise to both of them when he had suddenly popped up out of nowhere. The man gave both Miles and myself dark looks before flashing a sympathetic look to Dr. Hanson who looked positively grateful for the man's interruption. The nearly suffocating tension that had been there previously between Miles and Dr. Hanson had dissipated somewhat although the man's arrival had threatened to bring it back to the fore... _if_the nasty expression on his face was anything to go by.

His body language radiated a _very_ aggressive posture as he stood there glaring at both Miles and myself and I knew that this man definitely had a strong bond to Dr. Hanson; it was pretty clear by both the expression of pure hate on _his_ face and the pathetically grateful look on _hers_. I wondered if Miles had noticed that.

He had.

"And you are...?" he asked the newcomer, an elegant eyebrow lifting in query, his lips pressed in a thin line.

Taken somewhat aback at Miles' rather nonchalant question and, having been disarmed by Miles' droll tone of voice, the man stammered in reply, "Hoyme-Smith; Dr. Stephen Hoyme-Smith. I'm... a colleague of Dr. Hanson." He took a deep breath, regaining his ground as his black eyes glittered, shooting Miles a look of pure evil as he continued. "Now who are you two and what are you doing here harassing Dr. Hanson?"

Miles smiled thinly as he stood. "My name is Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth and this-" he indicated me and I inclined my head in greeting- "is my partner, and defence attorney, Phoenix Wright." He fixed Dr. Hoyme-Smith with an icy stare that made the good doctor quiver slightly, backing away two steps, his eyes widening.

_I guess he didn't expect a confrontation with Miles, _I thought cheekily, the corners of my mouth quivering slightly as I watched Dr. Hoyme-Smith take another step sideways that brought him to the side of Dr. Hanson, his eyes never once leaving Miles' face._No one usually does and, when he goes for the jugular, they're always surprised! It doesn't pay to underestimate him..._

Miles and the good doctor stared at each other for a few moments, dislike palpable between them, before the he lowered his eyes first, staring silently at the floor although I could see him seething with suppressed rage and I wondered why.

Perhaps he doesn't like his authority being questioned, either.

"In answer to your second question," Miles continued ruthlessly, his sparking dark grey eyes daring Dr. Hoyme-Smith to challenge him which the good doctor prudently decided against, "we were hired by dean Carson to look into the matter of the burnt body that was found in Nathaniel Park here by two of Cromwell's students. We have already talked to them and were in the process of talking to Dr. Hanson when we got into a shouting match over one or two points that we disagree on."

He gave a pointed look to Dr. Hanson who had the decency to blush before she dropped her gaze, chewing her lip hard, her hands clenching into tight fists, her eyes glittering with suppressed anger and rage. "I would highly suggest that you cooperate with our investigation; whatever we uncover will be fully reported to the proper authorities of which my partner, and myself, are representative of." Miles' eyes narrowed as he looked sharply at both Dr. Hanson and Dr. Hoyme-Smith who did their best to hide their reaction, knowing it would only aggravate the situation further. "Withholding information is illegal and could result in your arrest."

She blanched visibly, her face draining of all color until it was a sickly, pasty white as the barb struck home, her companion standing speechlessly beside her although the ugly look in his glittering black eyes spoke volumes. "And I _will_ see to it that you are arrested if you ever interfere in our investigation or withhold key information. I _will_ do what I was hired to do and I _will _find the truth and I _will _not let anyone get in the way of that. I don't care about your damned policies and I certainly don't care about stepping on important or highly placed toes if that's what's needed."

Dr. Hanson found her voice which was, literally, shaking with barely repressed rage.  
_  
_"You..._ wouldn't-_" she began tightly but, before she could say another word she was ruthlessly, and promptly, cut off by Miles.

"I_ can,_ I _would _and I _will,"_he stated flatly, his arms crossed over his chest, his index finger tapping the inside of his arm impatiently while both doctors stared at him, "make no mistake about that."

"But-" Dr. Hoyme-Smith began, his voice crackling with emotion, "think of what damage that would do to the university!"

Miles was unruffled and I think that this really made the two even more uncomfortable, and on less even footing, than they already were. Still, I wasn't at all sure playing this hard with them was a good idea and I resolved to talk about it to Miles later.

_I hope that this doesn't come back to bite us later on..._

"_She_-" he indicated, with a sharp nod of his head, Dr. Hanson who sat there like a stone statue, her colleague looking helplessly on -"should have thought of that before _she_ decided to play hardball with _me_." I winced at the sharp, staccato sound. "Henceforth, I'll be treating her as a hostile witness... unless _she_ comes clean with _me _as to the reason _why _she didn't go to the police when the homeless man's burnt remains showed up in Nathaniel Park and instead tried to sweep it under the rug. And don't tell me she _didn't_-" he continued as he saw Dr. Hoyme-Smith's mouth begin to open- "because we both know _very_ well that she _did_."_  
_  
Dr. Hoyme-Smith glared at Miles, the corners of his mouth quivering in rage, his black eyes glowing savagely. It looked like he was one step away from exploding but he was trying, with great effort, to get himself under some kind of conscious control. It took some time but he finally managed to compose himself long enough to grate out, "It _is _university business, after all, Prosecutor Edgeworth, and _not_ someone else's' concern and, as such, should be properly handled _within _the university proper, not _outside _of it."

_He can't be serious!_

His eyes narrowed while Miles looked on non-plussed. "Cromwell has long gone about it's own business and, whenever a situation arose, we handled it quite well, and capably, on _our_ own_ without _the need for outside help. In my opinion, and in Dr. Hanson's, dean Carson made a foolish mistake in calling both you and Mr. Wright to investigate the matter." His eyes never once left Miles' face as he lifted his hand and draped it over Dr. Hanson's right shoulder, squeezing it gently. The action was not lost on either Miles or myself and I put that tidbit away for future reference. "Perhaps Dr. Hanson extended herself a bit too far in her protestations but, seeing as the sort of pressure she's been under lately, I, for one, cannot find it in my heart to blame her if she has." He stopped, taking a deep breath while Miles and I both waited for him to resume speaking. "For this, we apologize."

My eyebrow rose._ We...? _The way he had phrased that was quite interesting. Did it mean that he made the apology on behalf of the university in conjunction with Dr. Hanson or did he make it on his own behalf?

_Interesting. I wonder where this will lead?_

Dr. Hanson also looked a bit taken aback by her colleague's latent apology and opened her mouth to say something but his fingers tightened on her shoulder and she immediately snapped it shut again, her eyes glowering with both anger and humiliation at his intercession but also colored with a tiny amount of relief that she didn't even bother to hide.

_So the cavalry arrives..._Judging by the look on Dr. Hanson's face, his rescue couldn't have come at a more convenient time. I suppose to her, swallowing her pride and eating crow is preferable to being made mincemeat out of by Miles and he was doing a very good job of that, as well. She can't charm her way out of things with him and she knows it; what's more I think her colleague knows it, too, which is why he stepped in when he did.

Miles was unmoved. "I'm still waiting for an explanation," he repeated, his voice low and cold, "and, until I get one, I'm treating her as a hostile witness."

Dr. Hoyme-Smith's eyes flashed darkly but he was saved from making any kind of comment by the restraining hand that Dr. Hanson put gently on his arm. She turned her head slowly to look at Miles, her eyes cold and distant as they locked on to his. For many moments, the two engaged in a silent battle of wills, neither of them backing down; I watched them with excitement mixed with trepidation, wondering how it was going to end and if he would jump in to save his colleague as he had the first time.

It appeared that that would be the case and, just as he started to open his mouth to give Miles a good piece of his mind, Dr. Hanson spoke.

"I have told you all I intend to tell you, Prosecutor Edgeworth," she said, her tone clipped and angry, "I did what I thought best for the university and, if I have erred on that score, then I can only present my apologies to you for the oversight."

The same thing that her colleague had said but with a little more aplomb. An empty and meaningless apology, at best. I sighed inwardly.

_I knew she wasn't going to make it easy for us but this is ridiculous._I cast a surreptitious glance at my partner from the corner of my eye and saw the tight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth that made him look like a demented clown.

_I guess we've been outgunned. This time._ I sighed inwardly._ Damn it._

Looking at Miles' face, I knew that he was keeping his temper with an act of will but he knew, as well as I, that, at least for now, we didn't have the upper hand any longer and the best thing that we could do would be to retreat and reorganize another time. It was galling, not only to me to me on a personal level but I was sure it was galling to Miles, as well, having to admit defeat but what else could we do at this point in time?

_That_ wasn't like him and, as I sat there, my mind working feverishly, I wondered just what it was he was doing and what he was up to. He _never _gave up _that _easily so there had to be some other explanation as to why it seemed he was doing just that.

A few minutes later, I had my answer.

_Wait a minute. _I looked at Miles' face again and, this time, I didn't miss the brief, mischievous sparkle I could see in his grey eyes. I felt the corners of my mouth twitching as I resisted the urge to smile. _Well, well, so _that's_ what he's up to!_ I swallowed a muffled chuckle as Miles turned his cold gaze back on Dr. Hanson and Dr. Hoyme-Smith, the latter with a smirk that he didn't even try to bother to hide so certain were they of victory. _You clever devil. Well played, Miles, well played indeed! Giving them enough rope to hang themselves was, indeed, a spark of genius! You almost had _me_ fooled!_

Miles inclined his head slightly. "I suppose that we will have to take what we can get," he said with finality while Dr. Hanson's mouth curved upward in a parody of a smile. "Therefore, and against my better judgment, I accept your apology."

"Thank you, Prosecutor Edgeworth," she replied triumphantly, the smug look on her face almost nauseating, "I trust that this little..._ incident_... can now be regulated to the past?"

Miles gave a nasty smile of his own and her own look of triumph started to fade to be replaced by full understanding. She swallowed, her eyes beginning to smolder with suppressed anger; she'd been fooled and, at this moment, she realized just to what extent.

I had to congratulate my partner on his cleverness and deviousness: by letting her think she had won, by his accepting of her apology which, in her mind at least, would signify that the matter was now closed by some tacit 'gentleman's agreement,' he'd waited for the right moment to spring his little trap on her and she'd fallen for it, hook line and sinker.

Her colleague couldn't save her this time and he didn't even try although he did flash her a helpless look that belied the rage that I could see shimmering just underneath the surface. He hadn't deceived her-he'd accepted her apology in the spirit in which it was meant-but that didn't mean that he thought the matter concluded. Far from it. Her mistake had been to underestimate Miles Edgeworth and think that, once he'd accepted her apology, that he had come around to her way of thinking and would drop the matter once and for all.

_That was a very foolish error on her part to make,_ I thought, watching the color in her face change from white, to beet red and back to white in the space of ten seconds as the import of what she had done finally sank in. _Once he gets his teeth into something, he doesn't let go until the matter is seen through to the bitter end. _I hid a grin and covered a chuckle by coughing. _Well, it wouldn't be the first time that someone underestimated him._

"It most certainly is _not,_" he remarked blithely, taking an evident delight in her discomfiture, Dr. Hanson's face turning white as all color drained from it. "If anything, there is now no doubt that there is a need for outside intervention and, as we have been asked to look into the matter of the homeless man's burnt remains, we shall endeavor to do so... _without _any more interference from the university, I trust?"

Dr. Hanson remained silent for a few moments until she muttered crossly, "No, Prosecutor Edgeworth, there will be no more interference from the university and... -" she paused a moment, a sour look on her face and I had the rather disconcerting thought that she would have rather swallowed poison than to admit her defeat and a far more fiendish, and smarter, opponent than she, herself, was- "I'll see to it that you receive as much help as you need to conduct this investigation thoroughly."

I couldn't help but hear the tight, cold tone in her voice as she said this but Miles appeared to be unaffected by it. I could only admire how he could stand there and take it, knowing that she hated him for it and, by both challenging her and her authority, had made a dire enemy for life.

"Thank you." Miles' voice was calm and controlled as he stood up, his eyes never once leaving her hate-filled face. "We shall begin our investigation the day after tomorrow... _if _you have no objections, Dr. Hanson?"

She shook her head. "None," she said tightly, her teeth clenched, her hands curling into fists. I couldn't help but wonder if she was imagining her fingers wrapped around Miles' throat as it seemed it might be, judging by the savage look on her face and the way her fingers were twitching.

"Very well." I stood up when I heard the dismissive tone in his voice since I knew that we were going to be leaving shortly and, for me, it couldn't come soon enough. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we were definitely _not _on Dr. Hanson's favorite people list and, although I couldn't be one hundred percent certain of this at this point in time, I had a bad feeling about all of this. Dr. Hanson had given in much too easily for my comfort level-I couldn't help but think that she had some kind of sinister plan that she would spring on us later-and I made a mental note to talk to Miles about it sometime this evening.

Another thing that was bothering me was the dangerous game of wits that he'd been playing with Dr. Hanson. On the one hand, Miles could play the game better than anyone I knew and I couldn't help but admire the sly way he'd often given a person enough rope to hang him or herself; on the other, he'd been playing it with someone who was almost as good at it as he was and, had it not been for the point that she couldn't argue, Dr. Hanson would _very _possibly have come out on top and bested Miles at his own game.

As we turned to leave, I heard the low, angry voice of Dr. Hoyme-Smith hiss some unintelligible words under his breath to Dr. Hanson and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her give him an angry glare that effectively silenced him. I filed this away for future reference and nodded politely as Miles opened the office door and we walked through it, closing it quietly behind us.

As we walked down the hallway toward the front entrance, I couldn't suppress a shiver of apprehension that crept down my spine, filling me with an almost overwhelming feeling of dread. I didn't know exactly what had caused it but I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to occur. It stayed with me for the next week or so and, to my dismay, my prediction would come true two weeks later when another professor, a female professor of History, disappeared without a trace.

I_ really_ hated it when I was right.


	7. Chapter 6: Revelations

_A/N: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth & Dick Gumshoe do not belong to me; they belong to CAPCOM. However, the President, Vice-President, the dean, the students, the victims, Dr. Elizabeth Partridge and the plot are mine._

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_There are foul deeds being born and plots are being solidified. The hunters are now aware that Prosecutor Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright have issued a challenge... one that neither of them will back down from..._

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Chapter six! :)

Wow, it _has_ been a long time since I updated last! ::sweatdrop:: Time certainly has a way of getting away from you... especially when you have a multitude of stories in various stages of writing!

I did change some times in Chapter 3 recently since I realized, as I was writing this chapter, that the times didn't mesh in my timeline so I went and changed them.

Stephen has the right idea to force Trudy Hanson to think clearly without being burdened by emotion: making her angry in order to get rid of the childish snit. She doesn't like being challenged and he knows it so it's the perfect way to get her to clear her head by getting her anger pointing toward himself. It worked! Now her head is clear and she realizes just what it is that she's up against. You have to pity the woman: she's certainly bitten off more than she can chew with Miles! Now it's _very_ clear to both of them just how dangerous an opponent Miles Edgeworth _really_ is!

I also like Elizabeth poking some gentle fun at Phoenix & Miles. :D Keeps them on their toes. :)

Tying up some loose ends before the next disappearance which will be coming soon! I always like to give a little bit of background to set the stage for the next chapter. :)

I give credit to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for getting through the block I had with this chapter. I read chapter six of his GrimgrimMoire fic, _Suffer Not A Witch, _and that was the key to breaking the blockage I'd had for so long. I was inspired! Thanks, sweetie! :) *By the way, if you like GrimgrimMoire, it is an _amazing_ fic so go check it out! :) *

**Thank you** to all who have favorited & followed my work and favourite authored me! I appreciate it more than I can say! :) I'm really glad that you enjoy my stories and I hope that you all will continue to do so in future! :)

An** extra-special Thank You** to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all his help, support, advice, nagging (when necessary) and encouragement! I appreciate it more than I can say! Love you!

Any and all comments will be appreciated and are enthusiastically welcomed! :) *I'll probably change some things at some point; always room for improvement! :) *

Rated NC-17, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth

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_October 9th  
Dr. Hanson's Office  
Cromwell University  
Los Angeles, CA  
5:30 P.M._

Once the sound of footsteps down the hall had ceased and the echoing noise of the door closing faded into silence, Trudy Hanson snarled, her eyes sparking, her mouth set in an ugly, twisted grimace, shaking with barely concealed rage. Stephen stood silently near the window, his trembling fingers resting lightly on the windowsill, his mouth set in a grim line, his black eyes shooting sparks.

Both of them knew what this meant; Prosecutor Edgeworth had made _that_ unmistakably clear. Neither of them were certain just what those two snoops knew or didn't know but they were both harboring no illusions that this was the end of the matter. Far from it.

He'd thrown down the gauntlet, as it were, and issued a direct challenge to them both and putting them both on notice that he was going to keep digging into the university's past and he had no intention of stopping. It was only a matter of time before he uncovered the truth and Trudy Hanson was _not_ a happy woman.

_Damn that impudent Prosecutor for his interference! _she thought angrily, her hands clenching into fists, blood-red nails digging savagely into her palm while her confederate scowled into empty space. _Damn him to the lowest hells, and that idiotic defender with him! How dare they interfere in something that doesn't concern them and damn dean Carson for bringing them in in the first place! _A feral snarl emerged from her tightly pressed lips. _We've come _too_ far at this point to turn back and I am _not_ about to let them interfere in our plans! _

She pounded her balled up fists on the top pf her desk, wincing at the sharp stab of pain that ran through her hand when it connected with the granite desktop. Grinding her teeth in impotent rage, she hammered as hard as she could, tears welling at the corners of her eyes, mewls of outrage bubbling up from deep within her.

She'd fought hard to bring Cromwell University up to where it now was. In the beginning, even before she'd come here to assume the reins of the presidency, this place had been a laughingstock, a joke among the academic world; under her tutelage, it was now a world-class institution where many distinguished professors and scientists came to teach or to observe and it was now the top-rated university in the entire country and she'd be damned if she was going to allow some stupid dead homeless man ruin everything she had worked so hard to achieve.

"Damn it!" she shouted at last, giving her anger full reign as it erupted, pounding her clenched fists even harder on the desk, a savage rhythmic beat that coincided with the frenetic beating of her heart. "Damn them all to the lowest hell!" She gnashed her teeth as she continued on in this vein for some time, Stephen's mouth gaping open in astonishment. "How _dare_ they come in here and challenge _my_ authority! _I'm_ mistress here, not _they_!"

He knew, better than anyone, just _how_ hot a temper Trudy had; over the course of their relationship, which began after his marriage to his first wife had unraveled beyond repair some twelve years earlier, he'd seen her lose her cool but _never_ as hotly as _this_. It was as if she was being stymied by, and their plans were being interfered with, Fate or the universe, whatever you wanted to call it, and she didn't like it.

He knew that she was intensely ambitious-one of the things that had attracted him to her in the beginning-and a hard worker-no one worked harder than she did for the university, he noted, even among the Old Guard-who put all she had into whatever project, or projects, she undertook. He knew it stuck in the craws of the Old Guard, especially Delia MacIntosh, who's jealousy and hatred of Trudy Hanson was well-known in the university itself and in others as well such as Professor Tandy and Dr. Cynthia Dahl, the forty-something Chair Heads of the Physics and History departments, respectively.

Stephen sighed as Trudy continued her tirade, her voice cracking with undisguised anger and rage that seemed to echo throughout her office, the sound being amplified due to the high domed ceiling. He winced as her voice became particularly shrill, a twisted grimace spreading over his face. If there was one thing that really irritated him about her, it was that shrill voice when she lost her cool. She could rant for hours once her back was up, her voice rising with each word until it pierced his skull with painful clarity.

_I hate it when she goes to pieces_, he thought uncharitably, his eyes narrowing as she continued her rant, resisting the urge to roll his eyes _You'd think that she would have a little more self-control than that._ He flicked an eye in her direction, his eyebrow raising. _I wish she would take a few minutes to calm down before she starts raging; it would be better for her if she did. _He sighed and tried to ignore the shrill voice invading his ears. _We can't give that old bitch any more _ammunition_ against her if we can help it; if Delia saw this display, she'd be more than happy to report it to the Board of Directors and use it as an excuse to deny Trudy tenure. _His lip curled._ That would please the old bitch to no end, wouldn't it?_

He waited a few minutes more until she'd wound down and sat there in silence, her face covered with sweat, panting hard, her fists balled into hard, angry knots that lay still on the desktop although every now and then a tremor went through them. He could see that she'd exhausted herself with the force of her rage and he couldn't help but feel concern for her; she had a nasty temper and God help anyone who was in her way when the guyser blew.

He'd remonstrated with her several times on the subject, pointing out, quite rightly, that she had to get a hold on her temper since she couldn't afford to throw a temper tantrum in public. This had gone over as well as mixing oil and water; she'd become angry and told him to mind his own business, pointedly ignoring him for days afterward. He wasn't overly concerned; he knew she'd seek him out to apologize once she was over her snit but it seemed that, lately, her tantrums were becoming more frequent... and violent.

He couldn't find it in his heart to blame her, really; she had enough problems on her plate to deal with that would drive an ordinary person to explode and this business with dean Carson calling in those two outside lack-wit lawyers in to investigate a problem that should, rightly, been conducted _in house_ and by _university officials _couldn't possibly help matters.

He sighed and walked over to the desk, standing slightly behind her chair. His fingers brushed her shoulder gently; she turned her head, brushing her cheek gently against the back of his hand._ No wonder she's upset; who _wouldn't _be with all of _this_ to deal with?_

They sat enshrouded in silence for the next ten minutes and, when it was broken at last, it was she who spoke first.

"I made a real ass of myself, didn't I, Stephen?" Her voice was cool and calm, nothing like the screaming out of control harridan she'd been earlier. It was almost as if she'd never lost her temper although the tell-tale signs _were_ there, if anyone really cared to look.

He nodded. "You did." She sighed but accepted the bald truth of his statement and appreciated his honesty although it didn't mean that she didn't necessarily liked it. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Princess, you _must _learn to control your temper. Flare-ups like that won't do you any good; you're lucky that no one was around to hear you! What would they have thought if anyone had?"

She smiled crookedly. "I wouldn't have given a tinker's damn, personally."

He didn't smile as he stepped around the chair and stood beside her, his black eyes serious, his expression grim and her own amused expression quickly faded when she saw just _how_ serious he looked, her hands trembling slightly.

"I'm quite serious, Trudy," he remarked tersely, his hands going over to her shoulders, his fingers gripping them tightly, "and you would do well to take it more seriously than I know you do. You haven't gotten tenure _yet _and, if _anyone _on the Board heard the little meltdown you just had here a few minutes ago, it would be _all _over!" He gripped her even tighter; she winced at the pain. "I _can't _stress enough for you to take what I'm saying seriously or _everything_ you've-_we've_-worked for is nothing more than a sweet little footnote in this institution's history! Is that what you want, Trudy? To be a footnote?!"

She swung around at his words, his hands sliding off of her shoulders, her expression a parody of a human face, her teeth bared, a feral snarl emerging from her lips.

"_Don't_ pontificate to _me_, Stephen," she hissed, her eyes shooting emerald-green sparks as she glared at her partner and lover balefully. "_You_, of _all _people, have _no _right to dictate to _me_ what _I_ can or cannot do!" Her eyes narrowed as he met her gaze squarely without flinching, a challenging look in his own eyes. "I will do as I please and what I think is necessary for the good of the university and I would thank you to kindly keep your nose out of matters which don't concern you! Is _that_ clear, Stephen?"

He gave her a hard look. "Perfectly, _Your Majesty_," he replied haughtily while she bristled at the insult, her hands clenching into fists. "But do remember one thing, if you choose: you have _no_ say in whether or not you get tenure; to be sure, you _do _have supporters but you _also _have detractors who do, like it or not, have more power at this point." He moved away from her toward the window while she trembled in mixed anger and unease. He'd _never_, in all the years they had been together, _ever _challenged her, openly or otherwise, and she wasn't sure that she liked it. "It is _they_ who will more than likely decide your fate and also remember that Delia MacIntosh, certainly no friend of yours, will do _everything _she can_, _fair _or _foul_, _to make sure that the Board will deny your request." He turned to face her, his jaw tightening,. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't have many friends among the Old Guard so I would advise you to watch your back from now on, bite your tongue and be the most charming woman you can possibly be because we're finished if you don't."

She wanted to lash out at him for his cold and pitiless words-indeed, a few choice words flashed through her mind-and shook with barely suppressed rage but she couldn't. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was right: the Old Guard resented and hated her with a passion she'd seen unequaled in any other place she'd been and it would please them _very _much if her request for tenure was denied.

She growled. _It would give them no end of satisfaction to see me fall flat on my face, _she thought bitterly, wincing again as another stab of pain ran through her hands. _And he's right, damn him. I can't afford to let my guard down now, not after everything we've done to make this place a better one than it had been. _She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _The old bitch, and others like her, would just love to throw me out and after all I've done for them, the ungrateful bastards!_

Stephen stood silently by the desk and she jumped a little when she realized just how close he was to her; she hadn't heard him move at all and that nettled her a little.

"You're right, Stephen," she said at last, spreading her hands. "Thrice damn you, you're right." She looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. "I can't deny the truth of your words because I know all too well that I really _don't _have many friends among the Old Guard and-" she took another deep breath - "that they are the ones who hold the key to my future so, as much as I hate to admit it, you're right."

He nodded and came over to her, taking her in his arms. He knew what it had cost her in pride to admit that she was wrong but he felt enheartened, nonetheless. Now that she understood the danger that she had to face from her enemies, the _real_ Trudy, the warrior and woman who wouldn't back down from a fight, came to the forefront, the bratty Trudy being left far behind.

He kissed her temple tenderly, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face.

"I'm very glad that you recognize just who and what it is that we're up against; you _can't_ afford to forget that."

She sighed deeply, her arms wrapping about his neck and holding him close.

"I know," she said quietly, "and thank you for reminding me of that." She stood back a little and looked at him, tilting her head slightly to the right. "I didn't _want_ to hear it but I _needed_ to; I _can't _afford _any_ mistakes going into next week because, the moment I do, the Old Guard will no doubt pounce. I have to find out what their strategy is and think of something to countermand it."

He smiled as he kissed her. "Good; you're thinking." He nuzzled the side of her neck as she giggled like a schoolgirl. "Keep on your toes and be your most charming self and there's nothing you can't do."

"Agreed," she said and then no more words were said as their lips met and meshed. The sun had already set by this time and they embraced enthusiastically, thin, watery rays of moonlight streaming through the frosted window...

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Delia MacIntosh stepped quietly away from the door, pressing the button on the hand-held tape recorder which turned off with a soft clicking noise, her mouth spreading in a vicious smile._

_She'd caught it all on tape, every last word, of Dr. Hanson's childish tirade and she was looking forward to the tenure meeting next week with a sense of savage satisfaction. At last, she would have her pound of flesh!_

_She walked quickly and quietly down the hall, her heels clicking softly against the floor, exiting the building and walking toward her own office building._

Yes, my girl, _I _am going to have my revenge on you at last and I am going to enjoy _every_ last minute of it. You think you have the upper hand but, as I will make very clear to you, you don't. I can't wait to see the look on your face next week!

_She could be forgiven for chuckling, her thoughts tumbling over one another as she hurried down the sidewalk._

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Coroner's Office  
Los Angeles County Police Department  
Los Angeles, CA  
5 P.M._

Miles knocked tentatively on Dr. Elizabeth Partridge's closed oak-scrolled door, his soft taps echoing throughout the silent hallway. I was surprised that there didn't seem to be much activity at the Coroner's Office this afternoon and I wondered if she had an appointment with someone in the building or had gone home early.

_Odd. I wonder why she doesn't answer the door? _I bit my lip, still struggling to rid myself of those terrible feelings of doom that I couldn't shake. It was _really_ beginning to bother me and I didn't know why. I'd had other feelings like this before but none of them had ever been as persistent as this. I shook my head, attempting to clear it. _I wonder if there's anything to it. Miles probably wouldn't think so and he's the more rational one._

I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear Miles speaking to me until, with a disgusted snort, he broke through my reverie, giving me a dirty look. I felt my cheeks flame in embarrassment and I swallowed hard, a foolish little smile plastering itself over my face, my fingers ghosting over the back of my neck.

"Try to pay attention for once, Wright," he said tartly, shaking his head while I tried to apologize or would have had I been able, at that time, to get my mouth to work properly. "This _is _important and I _can't_ have you wool-gathering once the investigation starts."

I nodded, licking my lips nervously. "Yes, Miles, but I-"

Miles wasn't listening, having turned his head to the side and looking at the closed door with a slight frown of irritation. He looked at his watch, waited a moment or two and then knocked again, harder this time. We waited in silence for a moment or two before, to my vast relief, I heard Elizabeth Partridge's rich, alto voice call out from within, "Come in, Miles and Phoenix! The door's open!"

"It's about time," Miles muttered sourly before he reached out, grasped the doorknob and turned it, opening the door quickly and walking inside with me close at his heels behind him, smothering a snicker and a crooked smile as I did so. If there was anything that annoyed Miles, it was tardiness.

We continued our walk down a couple of twisting corridors that I swore had been built just to annoy we poor defence attorneys although Miles seemed to have no difficulty whatever in traipsing the warren of hallways and offices; presumably, he'd been down here often enough that he'd memorized the layout. I secretly envied him this talent since I was having quite a hard time trying to get my bearings in this twisted maze and, by the time we had come to Elizabeth's office, my head was spinning.

She turned in her chair when she heard us come in, her face wreathed in a welcoming smile as both Miles and I bent over and kissed her lightly on the cheek in turn. I heard her chuckle at the slightly pinched expression on Miles' face-she knew how he hated to be kept waiting although sometimes I had the feeling that she did this on purpose just to tweak his somewhat pompous sensibilities which she seemed more amused than annoyed by. After a quick greeting, she turned to her left, grabbing a stuffed file folder from the right hand corner of her desk and putting it down in front of Miles as we sat down in the overstuffed chairs that ringed the front of her office.

I suspected that she had these chairs for the comfort of those who came to consult her; sometimes, meetings to talk about specific cases could run an hour or longer and sitting in hard, wooden chairs for that long would be decidedly uncomfortable; quite possibly, tempers could fray relatively easily so I congratulated her mentally for having the foresight to make comfortable chairs available.

She looked at me, a mischievous grin on her face as she gave me a slow, deliberate wink and I grinned back at her; in that moment, I knew that my assumption had been proved correct so, with that little mystery taken care of, I settled back in my chair to listen to what Dr. Partridge had to say about the homeless man's charred remains.

"There really isn't much more I can tell you other than what we already discussed over the phone," she said primly, crossing her legs and linking her fingers, resting them serenely in her lap, "other than whoever did this is a _very _sick individual."

We both nodded in unison.

"_That_ much we can definitely deduce from the available evidence," Miles said with a grim smile, his eyes narrowing, Dr. Partridge nodding. There was a few moments of silence before Miles leaned forward, linking his fingers together and steepling them under his chin, the expression on his face thoughtful yet serious. "You had said that there was something that you wanted to discuss?"

She nodded. "Yes, there was," she replied, reaching behind her to grasp a small manila folder. "I came across this and thought that it might be of dual interest and possible help to you in your investigation."

"Would you please elaborate on that, if you don't mind?" Miles wasn't being rude for being so forward with her. He was like this with everyone but, beneath the steely-sounding words, there was a genuine hint of curiosity lurking just below the surface.

_I wonder what it is that she wants to tell us? _I thought as I watched her place the folder on her lap, humming a soft tune as she flipped open the folder with a flourish that surprised me and amused Miles, going through the sheaf of papers with expert fingers. _It must be something important or, at the very least, something that struck her as odd that she thought to mention it to us._

For a few moments, the only sound we heard was Elizabeth humming and the soft swishing sound of papers being sorted. Finally, she gave a pleased exclamation which I assumed that she had found what it was that she was looking for; Miles' eyebrow raised slightly as she leaned forward, a small, blackened yellowish scrap of paper in her hand.

Miles looked at it curiously as he unlinked his fingers, reaching out and taking the paper from her carefully, since it was already shedding blackened, crumbling bits on the top of her desk.

"What is it?" he asked, his tone sounding puzzled. I couldn't blame him, really, for sounding that way since I, myself, was wondering what relevance, if any, this scrap of paper had. Obviously, it had some relevance but exactly _what_?

"I found it in the homeless man's shirt pocket," she explained. "And that," she added triumphantly, stabbing the air in front of her with her finger, "_might_ be the key to solving this particular mystery or, at the very least, an interesting side tidbit."

"Oh? How so?"

She settled back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee and linking her fingers together, a satisfied look on her face.

"Take a look at what is says."

Miles looked down, bringing the paper over toward him so that he could see it better in the light. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to make sense of the blackened, smudged words. I leaned over toward him, my own eyes arrowing as I looked at the paper, struggling to make some sense out of what seemed to be gibberish.

Miles was having some difficulty translating the smudges into words and, after five minutes, he was clearly getting nowhere.

"_Crom-Cromw—Cromwel-Unisty-Unistry.. Re-Re-Re-Cp-No_... This is so difficult to read... _Rec-Rcpto_-_Recpton Nu... Numer..Prednts... Recpto...9 P.M., MIN...Hl.._ Blast it, this really doesn't make much sense!" Miles burst out, frustration clear in his voice.

I wasn't having much luck, either, in deciphering the smudged words; it just looked like nonsensical gibberish to me.

I flickered an eyebrow in Dr. Partridge's direction and was a tad dismayed when I saw the amused look on her face.

"Miles is right; this really doesn't make any sense. Are you sure that this is important?"

She shrugged. "It could be or not," she said mysteriously, reaching down into a drawer in her desk and taking out a magnifying glass which she then handed to me. "I guess it all really depends on what you think you see."

_I _really _hate it when she's playing mysterious_, I groused mentally as I took the magnifying glass from her, my eyes flickering briefly over to her and then back to Miles again. _Why can't she just come right out and say what she means instead of making us jump through hoops like this?_

As if she had read my mind, she replied, "Because its both fun for me but, more importantly, it keeps you on your toes." She flickered an eyebrow in our direction, the corners of her mouth quirking with open amusement. "You need to keep your deductive skills sharp so I'm merely providing a way for you to accomplish that."

"She is having way _too_ much fun with this," I grumbled under my breath as I leaned over a little closer, the magnifying glass in front of me, "and I still think it would just be much easier to simply tell us instead of leading us down the garden path like a couple of errant schoolboys."

I was rewarded with a rich chuckle across the desk from me and I flushed as Miles gave me a sharp look out of the corner of his eye before guiding the glass over top of the blackened paper, looking through the magnifying glass.

The smudged words came into much clearer, and sharper, focus than it had previously. While some of it was still undecipherable, we could at least make a more educated guess as to what this scrap of paper might have been before it was burnt. The questions uppermost in my mind at this point were three: _What is this scrap of paper? What does it have to do with our investigation? How did this end up on our missing victim's person?_ And a fourth that tied all three together: _What did this mean?_

I looked up to see Dr. Partridge's thoughtful gaze rest on me; she knew that I was doing my best to make some coherent sense out of this burnt piece of paper.

There was something about the paper that struck me as odd and I leaned forward to take a closer look. My eyebrows furrowed as I studied the paper, my head tilting first to the left and then to the right. I could feel Miles' scrutiny but he made no comment as I spent the next few minutes looking at this seemingly insignificant scrap.

My eyes widened as I realized exactly _what _this piece of paper was or, more accurately, what it had once been.

"What is it Phoenix?" Elizabeth asked, her face wreathed in curiosity. "Do you know what it is and does it have anything to do with your case? I had thought that it might but I wasn't certain although, by the look on your face, it may be important."

I nodded.

"Not only do I now know what this scrap of paper once was, I think it's also the break that we've been waiting for!"


End file.
